FSoG
by Supernova1910
Summary: FSoG
1. Chapter 5

The following day, I call my mom when I'm home from work. It's been a relatively peace- ful day at the Clayton's, allowing me far too much time to think. I'm restless, nervous about my showdown with Mr. Control Freak tomorrow, and at the back of my mind, I'm worried that perhaps I've been too negative in my response to the contract. Perhaps he'll call the whole thing off.

My mom is oozing contrition, desperately sorry not to make my graduation. Bob has twisted some ligament which means he's hobbling all over the place. Honestly, he's as accident-prone as I am. He's expected to make a full recovery, but it means he's resting up, and my mother has to wait on him hand and sore foot.

"Ana honey, I'm so sorry," my mom whines down the phone. "Mom, it's fine. Ray will be there."

"Ana, you sound distracted – are you okay, baby?"

"Yes, Mom," _Oh if only you knew. _There's an obscenely rich guy I've met and he wants some kind of strange kinky sexual relationship, in which I don't get a say in things.

"Have you met someone?"

"No, Mom." I am so not going there right now.

"Well, darling, I'll be thinking of you on Thursday. I love you… you know that hon- ey?"

I close my eyes, her precious words give me a warm glow inside.

"Love you too, Mom. Say hi to Bob, and I hope he gets better fast." "Will do, honey. Bye."

"Bye."

I have strayed into my bedroom with the phone. Idly, I switch the mean machine on and fire up the email program. There's an email from Christian from late last night or very early this morning, depending on your point of view. My heart rate spikes instantly, and I hear the blood pumping in my ears. Holy crap… perhaps he's said no – that's it – maybe he's canceling dinner. The thought is so painful. I dismiss it quickly and open the email.

**From: **Christian Grey **Subject: **Your Issues **Date: **May 24 2011 01:27

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Dear Miss Steele

Following my more thorough examination of your issues, may I bring to your attention the definition of submissive.

**submissive **[s_uhb_-**mis**-iv] – **adjective**

**1. **inclined or ready to submit; unresistingly or humbly obedient: _submissive servants._

**2. **marked by or indicating submission: _a submissive reply._

**Origin: **1580–90; submiss + -ive

**Synonyms: 1. **tractable, compliant, pliant, amenable. **2. **passive, resigned, patient, docile, tame, subdued. **Antonyms: 1. **rebellious, disobedient.

Please bear this in mind for our meeting on Wednesday.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

My initial feeling is one of relief. He's willing to discuss my issues at least, and he still wants to meet tomorrow. After some thought, I reply.

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **My Issues… What about Your Issues?

**Date: **May 24 2011 18:29

**To: **Christian Grey

Sir

Please note the date of origin: 1580-90. I would respectfully remind Sir that the year is

2011. We have come a long way since then.

May I offer a definition for you to consider for our meeting:

**compromise **[**kom**-pr_uh_-mahyz] - **_noun_**

**1. **a settlement of differences by mutual concessions; an agreement reached by adjust- ment of conflicting or opposing claims, principles, etc., by reciprocal modification of de- mands. **2. **the result of such a settlement. **3. **something intermediate between different things: _The split-level is a compromise between a ranch house and a multistoried house._

**4. **an endangering, esp. of reputation; exposure to danger, suspicion, etc.: _a compro-_

_mise of one's integrity._

Ana

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **What about My Issues?

**Date: **May 24 2011 18:32

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Good point, well made, as ever, Miss Steele. I will collect you from your apartment at

7:00 tomorrow.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **2011 – Women can drive

**Date: **May 24 2011 18:40

**To: **Christian Grey

Sir

I have a car. I can drive.

I would prefer to meet you somewhere. Where shall I meet you?

At your hotel at 7:00? Ana

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Stubborn Young Women

**Date: **May 24 2011 18:43

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Dear Miss Steele

I refer to my email dated May 24, 2011 sent at 1:27 and the definition contained therein. Do you ever think you'll be able to do what you're told?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele **Subject: **Intractable Men **Date: **May 24 2011 18:49

**To: **Christian Grey

Mr. Grey

I would like to drive.

Please. Ana

**From: **Christian Grey **Subject: **Exasperated Men **Date: **May 24 2011 18:52

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Fine.

My hotel at 7:00.

I'll meet you in the Marble Bar.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

He's even grumpy by email. Doesn't he understand that I may need to make a quick get- away? Not that my Beetle is quick… but still – I need a means of escape.

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **Not So Intractable Men

**Date: **May 24 2011 18:55

**To: **Christian Grey

Thank you. Ana x

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Exasperating Women

**Date: **May 24 2011 18:59

**To: **Anastasia Steele

You're welcome.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I call Ray, who is just about to watch the Sounders play some soccer team from Salt Lake City, so our conversation is mercifully brief. He's driving down on Thursday for gradua- tion. He wants to take me out afterward for a meal. My heart swells talking to Ray, and a huge lump knots in my throat. He has been my constant through all mom's romantic ups and downs. We have a special bond that I treasure. Even though he's my stepdad, he's always treated me as his own, and I can't wait to see him. It's been too long. His quiet fortitude is what I need now, what I miss. Maybe I can channel my inner Ray for my meet- ing tomorrow.

Kate and I concentrate on packing, sharing a bottle of cheap red wine as we do. When I finally go to bed, having almost finished packing my room, I feel calmer. The physical activity of boxing everything up has been a welcome distraction, and I'm tired. I want a good night's sleep. I snuggle into my bed and am soon asleep.

Paul is back from Princeton before he sets off for New York to start an internship with a financing company. He follows me round the store all day asking me for a date. It's an- noying.

"Paul, for the hundredth time, I have a date this evening."

"No, you don't, you're just saying that to avoid me. You're always avoiding me."

_Yes… you'd think you'd take the hint._

"Paul, I never thought it was a good idea to date the boss's brother." "You're finishing here on Friday. You're not working tomorrow."

"And I'll be in Seattle as of Saturday and you'll be in New York soon. We couldn't get much further apart if we tried. Besides, I do have a date this evening."

"With José?" "No."

"Who then?"

"Paul… oh." My sigh is exasperated. He's not going to let this go. "Christian Grey." I cannot help the annoyance in my voice. But it does the trick. Paul's mouth falls open, and he gapes at me, struck dumb. Humph – even his _name _renders people speechless.

"You have a date with Christian Grey," he says finally, once he's over the shock. Dis- belief is evident in his voice.

"Yes."

"I see." Paul looks positively crestfallen, stunned even, and a very small part resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does too. She makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with her fingers.

After that, he ignores me, and at five I am out of the door, pronto.

Kate has lent me two dresses and two pairs of shoes for tonight and for graduation tomorrow. I wish I could feel more enthused about clothes and make an extra effort, but clothes are just not my thing. _What is your thing, Anastasia? _Christian's softly spoken question haunts me. Shaking my head and endeavoring to quell my nerves, I decide on the plum-colored sheath dress for this evening. It's demure and vaguely business-like – after all, I am negotiating a contract.

I shower, shave my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half-hour drying it so that it falls in soft waves to my breasts and down my back. I slip a comb in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip-gloss. I rarely wear make-up – it intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with make-up – maybe I'd know more about it if they had. I slip on the plum-colored stilettos that match the dress, and I'm ready by six-thirty.

"Well?" I ask Kate. She grins.

"Boy, you scrub up well, Ana." She nods with approval. "You look hot." "Hot! I'm aiming for demure and business-like."

"That too, but most of all, hot. The dress really suits you and your coloring. The way it clings." She smirks.

"Kate!" I scold.

"Just keeping it real, Ana. The whole package – looks good. Keep the dress. You'll have him eating out of your hand."

My mouth presses in a hard line. _Oh, you so have that the wrong way round._

"Wish me luck."

"You need luck for a date?" Her brow furrows, puzzled. "Yes, Kate."

"Well then – good luck." She hugs me, and I am out the front door.

I have to drive in my bare feet – Wanda, my sea-blue Beetle, wasn't built to be driven by stiletto-wearers. I pull up outside the Heathman at six-fifty-eight precisely and hand my car keys to the valet for parking. He looks askance at my Beetle, but I ignore him. Taking a deep breath and mentally girding my loins, I head into the hotel.

Christian is leaning casually against the bar, drinking a glass of white wine. He's dressed in his customary white linen shirt, black jeans, black tie, and black jacket. His hair is as tousled as ever. I sigh. Of course he looks gorgeous. I stand for a few seconds in the entrance of the bar, gazing at him, admiring the view. He is beyond beautiful. He glances, nervously I think, toward the entrance and stills when he sees me. Blinking a couple of times, he then smiles a slow, lazy, sexy smile that renders me speechless and all molten inside. Making a supreme effort not to bite my lip, I move forward aware that I, Anastasia Steele of Clumsyville, am in high stilettos. He walks gracefully over to meet me.

"You look stunning," he murmurs as he leans down to briefly kiss my cheek. "A dress, Miss Steele. I approve." Taking my arm, he leads me to a secluded booth and signals for the waiter.

"What would you like to drink?"

My lips quirk up in a quick, sly smile as I sit and slide into the booth – well, at least he's asking me.

"I'll have what you're having, please." See! I can play nice and behave myself. Amused, he orders another glass of Sancerre and slides in opposite me.

"They have an excellent wine cellar here," he says, cocking his head to one side. Putting his elbows on the table, he steeples his fingers in front of his beautiful mouth,

his gray eyes alive with some unreadable emotion. And there it is… that familiar pull and charge from him, it connects somewhere deep inside me. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my heart palpitating. I must keep my cool.

"Are you nervous?" he asks softly. "Yes."

He leans forward.

"Me too," he whispers conspiratorially. My eyes shoot up to meet his. _Him. Nervous. Never. _I blink at him, and he smiles his adorable lopsided smile at me. The waiter arrives with my wine, a small dish of mixed nuts, and another of olives.

"So, how are we going to do this?" I ask. "Run through my points one by one?"

"Impatient as ever, Miss Steele."

"Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today?"

He smiles, and his long fingers reach down to collect an olive. He pops it in his mouth, and my eyes linger on his mouth, that mouth, that's been on me… all parts of me. I flush.

"I thought the weather was particularly unexceptional today," he smirks. "Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?"

"I am, Miss Steele."

"You know this contract is legally unenforceable." "I am fully aware of that, Miss Steele."

"Were you going to tell me that at any point?" He frowns at me.

"You'd think I'd coerce you into something you don't want to do, and then pretend that

I have a legal hold over you?" "Well… yes."

"You don't think very highly of me at all, do you?" "You haven't answered my question."

"Anastasia, it doesn't matter if it's legal or not. It represents an arrangement that I would like to make with you – what I would like from you and what you can expect from me. If you don't like it, then don't sign. If you do sign, and then decide you don't like it, there are enough get-out clauses so you can walk away. Even if it were legally binding, do you think I'd drag you through the courts if you did decide to run?"

I take a long draft of my wine. My subconscious taps me hard on the shoulder. You must keep your wits about you. _Don't drink too much._

"Relationships like this are built on honesty and trust," he continues. "If you don't trust me – trust me to know how I'm affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you – if you can't be honest with me, then we really can't do this."

_Oh my, _we've cut to the chase quickly. _How far he can take me. _Holy shit. What does that mean?

"So it's quite simple, Anastasia. Do you trust me or not?" His eyes are burning, fer- vent.

"Did you have similar discussions with um… the fifteen?" "No."

"Why not?"

"Because they were all established submissives. They knew what they wanted out of a relationship with me and generally what I expected. With them, it was just a question of fine-tuning the soft limits, details like that."

"Is there a store you go to? Submissives R Us?" He laughs.

"Not exactly." "Then how?"

"Is that what you want to discuss? Or shall we get down to the nitty-gritty? Your is- sues, as you say."

I swallow. _Do I trust him? _Is that what this all comes down to – trust? Surely that should be a two-way thing. I remember his snit when I phoned José.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, distracting me from my thoughts.

_Oh no… food._

"No."

"Have you eaten today?"

I stare at him. _Honesty… _Holy crap, he's not going to like my answer. "No." My voice is small.

He narrows his eyes.

"You have to eat, Anastasia. We can eat down here or in my suite. What would you prefer?"

"I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground." He smiles sardonically.

"Do you think that would stop me?" he says softly, a sensual warning. My eyes widen, and I swallow again.

"I hope so."

"Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public." He smiles at me enigmati- cally and climbs out of the booth, holding his hand out to me.

"Bring your wine," he murmurs.

Placing my hand in his, I slide out and stand up beside him. He releases me, and his hand reaches for my elbow. He leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a mezzanine floor. A young man in full Heathman livery approaches us.

"Mr. Grey, this way sir."

We follow him through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. _Just one secluded table. _The room is small but sumptuous. Beneath a shimmering chandelier, the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet. An old-world, sophisticated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Christian sits opposite me. I peek up at him.

"Don't bite your lip," he whispers.

I frown. Damn it. I don't even know that I'm doing it. "I've ordered already. I hope you don't mind."

Frankly, I'm relieved, I'm not sure I can make any further decisions. "No, that's fine," I acquiesce.

"It's good to know that you can be amenable. Now, where were we?"

"The nitty-gritty." I take another large sip of wine. It really is delicious. Christian Grey does wine well. I remember the last sip of wine he gave me, in my bed. I blush at the intrusive thought.

"Yes, your issues." He fishes into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. My email.

"Clause 2. Agreed. This is for the benefit of us both. I shall redraft."

I blink at him. Holy shit… we are going to go through each of these points one at a time. I just don't feel so brave face to face. He looks so earnest. I steel myself with an- other sip of my wine. Christian continues.

"My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months for all the health risks you mention. All my recent tests are

clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I'm vehemently anti-drugs. I have a strict no- tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing."

Wow… control freakery gone mad. I blink at him shocked.

"I have never had any blood transfusions. Does that answer your question?" I nod, impassive.

"Your next point I mentioned earlier. You can walk away any time, Anastasia. I won't stop you. If you go, however – that's it. Just so you know."

"Okay," I answer softly. If I go, that's it. The thought is surprisingly painful.

The waiter arrives with our first course. How can I possibly eat? Holy Moses – he's ordered oysters on a bed of ice.

"I hope you like oysters," Christian's voice is soft. "I've never had one." Ever.

"Really? Well." He reaches for one. "All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage that." He gazes at me, and I know what he's referring to. I blush scarlet. He grins at me, squirts some lemon juice onto his oyster, and then tips it into his mouth.

"Hmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea," he grins at me. "Go on," he encourages. "So, I don't chew it?"

"No, Anastasia, you don't." His eyes are alight with humor. He looks so young like this.

I bite my lip, and his expression changes instantly. He looks sternly at me. I reach across and pick up my first ever oyster. Okay… here goes nothing. I squirt some lemon juice on it and tip it up. It slips down my throat, all seawater, salt, the sharp tang of citrus, and fleshiness… ooh. I lick my lips, and he's watching me intently, his eyes hooded.

"Well?"

"I'll have another," I say dryly. "Good girl," he says proudly.

"Did you choose these deliberately? Aren't they known for their aphrodisiac quali- ties?"

"No, they are the first item on the menu. I don't need an aphrodisiac near you. I think you know that, and I think you react the same way near me," he says simply. "So where were we?" He glances at my email as I reach for another oyster.

_He reacts the same way. I affect him… wow._

"Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I need you to do that. Think of it as role-play Anastasia."

"But I'm worried you'll hurt me." "Hurt you how?"

"Physically." _And emotionally._

"Do you really think I would do that? Go beyond any limit you can't take?" "You've said you've hurt someone before."

"Yes, I have. It was a long time ago." "How did you hurt them?"

"I suspended them from my playroom ceiling. In fact, that's one of your questions. Suspension – that's what the karabiners are for in the playroom. Rope play. One of the ropes was tied too tightly."

I hold my hand up begging him to stop.

"I don't need to know any more. So you won't suspend me then?" "Not if you really don't want to. You can make that a hard limit." "Okay."

"So obeying, do you think you can manage that?"

He stares at me, his gray eyes intense. The seconds tick by. "I could try," I whisper.

"Good." He smiles. "Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, espe- cially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don't think I'll be able to stay away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now," he pauses.

_He can't stay away from me? What?_

"How about, one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself – but I get a midweek night that week?"

"Okay."

"And please, let's try it for three months. If it's not for you then, you can walk away anytime."

"Three months?" I'm feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat my- self to another oyster. I could learn to like these.

"The ownership thing, that's just terminology and goes back to the principle of obey- ing. It's to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I'm coming from. And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That's why you have to trust me. I will fuck you, any time, any way, I want – anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me. But I know you've not done this before. Initially, we'll take it slowly, and I will help you. We'll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The "or otherwise"

– again it's to help you get into the mindset, it means anything goes."

He's so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously his obsession, the way he is… I can't take my eyes off him. He really, really wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me. "Still with me?" he whispers, his voice rich, warm and seductive. He takes a sip of his

wine, his penetrating stare holding mine.

The waiter comes to the door, and Christian subtly nods permitting the waiter to clear our table.

"Would you like some more wine?" "I have to drive."

"Some water then?" I nod.

"Still or sparkling?" "Sparkling, please." The waiter leaves.

"You're very quiet," Christian whispers.

"You're very verbose." He smiles.

"Discipline. There's a very fine line between pleasure and pain Anastasia. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how plea- surable pain can be. You don't believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can't handle. Again, it comes down to trust. _Do _you trust me, Ana?"

_Ana!_

"Yes, I do." I respond spontaneously, not thinking… because it's true – I _do _trust him. "Well then," he looks relieved. "The rest of this stuff is just details."

"Important details."

"Okay, let's talk through those."

My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Kate's mini disc player so I can listen back to this. There is so much information, so much to process. The waiter re-emerges with our entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hol- landaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.

"I hope you like fish," Christian says mildly.

I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently wish it was wine.

"The rules. Let's talk about them. The food is a deal breaker?" "Yes."

"Can I modify to say that you will eat at least three meals a day?"

"No." I am so not backing down on this. No one is going to dictate to me what I eat. How I fuck, yes, but eat… no, no way.

He purses his lips.

"I need to know that you're not hungry." I frown. _Why?_

"You'll have to trust me."

He gazes at me for a moment, and he relaxes.

"Touché, Miss Steele," he says quietly. "I concede the food and the sleep." "Why can't I look at you?"

"That's a Dom/sub thing. You'll get used to it."

_Will I?_

"Why can't I touch you?" "Because you can't."

His mouth sets in a mulish line. "Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?" He looks quizzically at me.

"Why would you think that?" And immediately he understands. "You think she trau- matized me?"

I nod.

"No Anastasia. She's not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn't take any of that shit from me."

_Oh… but I have to. _I pout.

"So nothing to do with her."

"No. And I don't want you touching yourself, either."

_What? _Ah yes, the no masturbation clause. "Out of curiosity… why?"

"Because I want all your pleasure," his voice is husky, but determined.

_Oh_… I have no answer for that. On one level it's up there with, 'I want to bite that lip', on another, it's so selfish. I frown and take a bite of cod, trying to assess mentally what concessions I've gained. The food, the sleep, I can look him in the eye. He's going to take it slow, and we haven't discussed soft limits. But I'm not sure I can face that over food.

"I've given you a great deal to think about haven't I?" "Yes."

"Do you want to go through the soft limits now too?" "Not over dinner."

He smiles. "Squeamish?" "Something like that."

"You've not eaten very much." "I've had enough."

"Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and you've not eaten all day. You said I could trust you."

Jeez. He's kept an inventory.

"Christian, please, it's not every day I sit through conversations like this." "I need you fit and healthy Anastasia."

"I know."

"And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress."

I swallow. _Peel me out of Kate's dress. _I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I'm now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can't have this. His most potent weapon, used against me again. He's so good at sex – even I've figured this out.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I murmur quietly. "We haven't had dessert." "You want dessert?" he snorts.

"Yes."

"You could be dessert," he murmurs suggestively. "I'm not sure I'm sweet enough."

"Anastasia, you're deliciously sweet. I know."

"Christian. You use sex as a weapon. It really isn't fair," I whisper, staring down at my hands, and then looking directly at him. He raises his eyebrows, surprised, and I see he's considering my words. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.

"You're right. I do. In life you use what you know, Anastasia. Doesn't change how much I want you. Here. Now."

How can he seduce me solely with his voice? I'm panting already – my heated blood rushing through my veins, my nerves tingling.

"I'd like to try something," he breathes.

I frown. He's just given me a shit load of ideas to process and now this.

"If you were my sub, you wouldn't have to think about this. It would be easy." His voice is soft, seductive. "All those decisions – all the wearying thought processes behind them. The – is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now? You wouldn't have to worry about any of that detail. That's what I'd do as your Dom. And right now, I know you want me, Anastasia."

My frown deepens. How can he tell? "I can tell because… "

_Holy shit he's answering my unspoken question_. Is he psychic as well?

"… Your body gives you away. You're pressing your thighs together, you're flushed, and your breathing has changed."

_O, this is too much._

"How do you know about my thighs?" My voice is low, disbelieving. They're under the table for heaven's sake.

"I felt the tablecloth move, and it's a calculated guess based on years of experience. I'm right aren't I?"

I flush and stare down at my hands. That's what I'm hindered by in this game of se- duction. He's the only one who knows and understands the rules. I'm just too naïve and inexperienced. My only sphere of reference is Kate, and she doesn't take any shit from men. My other references are all fictional: Elizabeth Bennett would be outraged, Jane Eyre too frightened, and Tess would succumb, just as I have.

"I haven't finished my cod." "You'd prefer cold cod to me?"

My head jerks up to glare at him, and his gray eyes burn molten silver, with compel- ling need.

"I thought you liked me clearing my plate."

"Right now, Miss Steele, I couldn't give a fuck about your food." "Christian. You just don't fight fair."

"I know. I never have."

My inner goddess frowns at me. You can do this, she coaxes – play this sex god at his own game. _Can I? _Okay. What to do? My inexperience is an albatross around my neck. Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip. Then very slowly put the tip of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it.

Christian's eyes widen infinitesimally, but I notice. "Anastasia. What are you doing?"

I bite off the tip.

"Eating my asparagus." Christian shifts in his seat.

"I think you're toying with me, Miss Steele." I feign innocence.

"I'm just finishing my food, Mr. Grey."

The waiter chooses this moment to knock and, unbidden, enter. He glances briefly at Christian, who frowns at him but then nods, so the waiter clears our plates. The waiter's arrival has broken the spell. And I grasp this precious moment of clarity. I have to go. Our meeting will only end one way if I stay, and I need some boundaries after such an intense

conversation. As much as my body craves his touch, my mind is rebelling. I need some distance to think about all he's said. I still haven't made a decision, and his sexual allure and prowess doesn't make it any easier.

"Would you like some dessert?" Christian asks, ever the gentleman, but his eyes still blaze.

"No, thank you. I think I should go." I stare down at my hands. "Go?" He can't hide his surprise.

The waiter leaves hastily.

"Yes." It's the right decision. If I stay here, in this room with him, he will fuck me. I

stand, purposefully. "We both have the graduation ceremony tomorrow." Christian stands automatically, revealing years of ingrained civility.

"I don't want you to go." "Please… I have to." "Why?"

"Because you've given me so much to consider… and I need some distance." "I could make you stay," he threatens.

"Yes, you could easily, but I don't want you to."

He runs his hand through his hair, regarding me carefully.

"You know, when you fell into my office to interview me, you were all yes sir, no sir. I thought you were a natural born submissive. But quite frankly, Anastasia, I'm not sure you have a submissive bone in your delectable body." He moves slowly toward me as his speaks, his voice tense.

"You may be right," I breathe.

"I want the chance to explore the possibility that you do," he murmurs, staring down at me. He reaches up and caresses my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "I don't know any other way, Anastasia. This is who I am."

"I know."

He leans down to kiss me, but pauses before his lips touch mine, his eyes searching mine, wanting, asking permission. I raise my lips to his, and he kisses me and because I don't know if I'll ever kiss him again, I let go – my hands moving of their own accord and twisting into his hair, pulling him to me, my mouth opening, my tongue stroking his. His hand grasps the nape of my neck as he deepens the kiss, responding to my ardor. His other hand slides down my back and flattens at the base of my spine as he pushes me against his body.

"I can't persuade you to stay?" he breathes between kisses. "No."

"Spend the night with me." "And not touch you? No." He groans.

"You impossible girl." He pulls back, gazing down at me. "Why do I think you're telling me goodbye?"

"Because I'm leaving now."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Christian, I have to think about this. I don't know if I can have the kind of relation- ship you want."

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against mine, giving us both the opportu- nity to slow our breathing. After a moment, he kisses my forehead, inhales deeply, his nose in my hair, and then he releases me, stepping back.

"As you wish, Miss Steele," he says, his face impassive. "I'll escort you to the lobby." He holds out his hand. Leaning down, I grab my purse and place my hand in his. _Holy crap, this could be it. _I follow him meekly down the grand stairs and into the lobby, my scalp prickling, my blood pumping. This could be the last goodbye if I decide to say no. My heart contracts painfully in my chest. What a turnaround. What a difference a moment of clarity can make to a girl.

"Do you have your valet ticket?"

I fish into my clutch purse and hand him the ticket, which he gives to the doorman. I

peek up at him as we stand waiting. "Thank you for dinner," I murmur.

"It's a pleasure as always, Miss Steele," he says politely, though he looks deep in thought, completely distracted.

As I peer up at him, I commit his beautiful profile to memory. The idea that I might not see him again haunts me, unwelcome and too painful to contemplate. He turns suddenly, staring down at me, his expression intense.

"You're moving this weekend to Seattle. If you make the right decision, can I see you on Sunday?" He sounds hesitant.

"We'll see. Maybe," I breathe. Momentarily, he looks relieved, and then he frowns. "It's cooler now, don't you have a jacket?"

"No."

He shakes his head in irritation and takes off his jacket. "Here. I don't want you catching cold."

I blink up at him as he holds it open, and as I hold my arms out behind me, I'm re- minded of the time in his office when he slipped my coat onto my shoulders – the first time I met him – and the effect he had on me then. Nothing's changed, in fact, it's more intense. His jacket is warm, far too big, and it smells of him. _Oh my… _delicious.

My car pulls up outside. Christian's mouth drops open.

"That's what you drive?" He's appalled. Taking my hand, he leads me outside. The valet jumps out and hands me my keys, and Christian coolly palms him some money.

"Is this roadworthy?" He's glaring at me now. "Yes."

"Will it make it to Seattle?" "Yes. She will."

"Safely?"

"Yes," I snap, exasperated. "Okay she's old. But she's mine, and she's roadworthy. My stepdad bought it for me."

"Oh, Anastasia, I think we can do better than this."

"What do you mean?" Realization dawns. "You are _not _buying me a car." He glowers at me, his jaw tense.

"We'll see," he says tightly.

He grimaces as he opens the driver's door and helps me in. I take my shoes off and roll down the window. He's gazing at me, his expression unfathomable, eyes dark.

"Drive safely," he says quietly.

"Goodbye, Christian." My voice is hoarse from unbidden, unshed tears – _jeez I'm not going to cry. _I give him a small smile.

As I drive away, my chest constricts, my tears start to fall, and I choke back a sob. Soon tears are streaming down my face, and I really don't understand why I'm crying. I was holding my own. He explained everything. He was clear. He wants me, but the truth is, I need more. I need him to want me like I want and need him, and deep down I know that's not possible. I am just overwhelmed.

I don't even know how to categorize him. If I do this thing… will he be my boyfriend? Will I be able to introduce him to my friends? Go out to bars, the cinema, bowling even, with him? The truth is, I don't think I will. He won't let me touch him and he won't let me sleep with him. I know I've not had these things in my past, but I want them in my future. And that's not the future he envisages.

What if I do say yes, and in three months' time he says no, he's had enough of trying to mold me into something I'm not. How will I feel? I'll have emotionally invested three months, doing things that I'm not sure I want to do. And if he then says no, agreement over, how could I cope with that level of rejection? Perhaps it's best to back away now with what self-esteem I have reasonably intact.

But the thought of not seeing him again is agonizing. How has he gotten under my skin so quickly? It can't just be the sex… can it? I dash the tears from my eyes. I don't want to examine my feelings for him. I'm frightened what I'll uncover if I do. _What am I going to do?_

I park up outside our duplex. No lights on. Kate must be out. I'm relieved. I don't want her to catch me crying again. As I undress, I wake up the mean machine and sitting in my inbox is a message from Christian.

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Tonight

**Date: **May 25 2011 22:01

**To: **Anastasia Steele

I don't understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your ques- tions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate, and I fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow.

Trust me.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

His email makes me weep more. I am not a merger. I am not an acquisition. Reading this, I might as well be. I don't reply. I just don't know what to say to him. I fumble into my PJs, and wrapping his jacket around me. I climb into bed. As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.

_'Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the man for you.'_

_'I don't do the girlfriend thing.'_

_'I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of guy.'_

_'I don't make love.''This is all I know.'_

And as I weep into my pillow silently, it's this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too. Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

Chapter Fourteen

Christian is standing over me grasping a plaited, leather riding-crop. He's wearing old, faded, ripped Levis and that's all. He flicks the crop slowly into his palm as he gazes down at me. He's smiling, triumphant. I cannot move. I am naked and shackled, spread-eagled on a large four-poster bed. Reaching forward, he trails the tip of the crop from my forehead down the length of my nose, so I can smell the leather, and over my parted, panting lips. He pushes the tip into my mouth so I can taste the smooth, rich leather.

"Suck," he commands his voice soft. My mouth closes over the tip as I obey. "Enough," he snaps.

I'm panting once more as he tugs the crop out of my mouth, trails it down and under my chin, on down my neck to the hollow at the base of my throat. He swirls it slowly there and then continues to drag the tip down my body, along my sternum, between my breasts, over my torso down to my navel. I'm panting, squirming, pulling against my restraints that are biting into my wrists and my ankles. He swirls the tip around my navel then continues to trail the leather tip south, through my pubic hair to my clitoris. He flicks the crop and it hits my sweet spot with a sharp slap, and I come, gloriously, shouting my release.

Abruptly, I wake, gasping for breath, covered in sweat and feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm. Holy hell. I'm completely disorientated. _What the hell just happened? _I'm in my bedroom alone. How? Why? I sit bolt upright, shocked… wow. It's morning. I glance at my alarm clock – eight o'clock. I put my head in my hands. I didn't know I

could dream sex. Was it something I ate? Perhaps the oysters and my Internet research manifesting itself in my first wet dream. It's bewildering. I had no idea that I could orgasm in my sleep.

Kate is skipping around the kitchen when I stagger in.

"Ana, are you okay? You look odd. Is that Christian's jacket you're wearing?"

"I'm fine." Damn, should have checked in the mirror. I avoid her piercing green eyes. I'm still reeling from my morning's event. "Yes, this is Christian's jacket."

She frowns.

"Did you sleep?" "Not very well."

I head for the kettle. I need tea. "How was dinner?"

_So it begins._

"We had oysters. Followed by cod, so I'd say it was fishy."

"Ugh… I hate oysters, and I don't want to know about the food. How was Christian? What did you talk about?"

"He was attentive," I pause.

What can I say? His HIV status is clear, he's heavily into role-play, wants me to obey his every command, he hurt someone he tied to his bedroom ceiling, and he wanted to fuck me in the private dining room. Would that be a good summary? I try desperately to remember something from my encounter with Christian that I can discuss with Kate.

"He doesn't approve of Wanda."

"Who does, Ana? That's old news. Why are you being so coy? Give it up, girlfriend." "Oh, Kate, we talked about lots things. You know – how fussy he is about food. Inci- dentally, he liked your dress." The kettle has boiled, so I make myself some tea. "Do you

want tea? Would you like me to hear your speech for today?"

"Yes, please. I worked on it last night over at Lilah's. I'll go fetch it. And yes, I'd love some tea." Kate races out of the kitchen.

Phew, Katherine Kavanagh sidetracked. I slice a bagel and pop it into the toaster. I

flush remembering my very vivid dream. What on earth was that about?

Last night I found it hard to sleep. My head was buzzing with various options. I am so confused. Christian's idea of a relationship is more like a job offer. It has set hours, a job description, and a rather harsh grievance procedure. It's not how I envisaged my first romance – but, of course, Christian doesn't do romance. If I tell him I want more, he may say no… and I could jeopardize what he has offered. And this is what concerns me most, because I don't want to lose him. But I'm not sure I have the stomach to be his submissive

– deep down, it's the canes and whips that put me off. I'm a physical coward, and I will go a long way to avoid pain. I think of my dream… _is that what it would be like? _My inner goddess jumps up and down with cheerleading pom-poms shouting yes at me.

Kate comes back into the kitchen with her laptop. I concentrate on my bagel and listen patiently as she runs through her Valedictorian speech.

I am dressed and ready when Ray arrives. I open the front door, and he's standing on the porch in his ill-fitting suit. A warm surge of gratitude and love for this uncomplicated man streaks through me, and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of af- fection. He's taken-aback, bemused.

"Hey, Annie, I'm pleased to see you too," he mutters as he hugs me. Setting me back, his hands on my shoulders, he looks me up and down, his brow furrowed. "You okay, kid?"

"Of course, Dad, can't a girl be pleased to see her old man?"

He smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, and follows me into the living area. "You look good," he says.

"This is Kate's dress." I glance down at the grey chiffon halter neck dress. He frowns.

"Where is Kate?"

"She's gone to campus. She's giving a speech, so she has to be early." "Should we head on over?"

"Dad, we have half an hour. Would you like some tea? And you can tell me how ev- eryone in Montesano is getting along. How was the drive down?"

Ray pulls his car into the campus parking lot, and we follow the stream of humanity dotted with ubiquitous black and red gowns, heading toward the sports auditorium.

"Good luck, Annie. You seem awfully nervous, do you have to do anything?" Holy crap… why has Ray picked today to be so observant?

"No, Dad. It's a big day." _And I'm going to see him._

"Yeah, my baby girl has gotten a degree. I'm proud of you, Annie." "Aw… thanks Ray." Oh I love this man.

The sports auditorium is crowded. Ray has gone to sit with the other parents and well-wishers in the raked seating, while I make my way to my seat. I'm wearing my black gown and my cap, and I feel protected by them, anonymous. There is no one on the stage yet, but I can't seem to steady my nerves. My heart is pounding, and my breathing is shal- low. He's here, somewhere. I wonder if Kate is talking to him, interrogating him maybe. I make my way to my seat amongst fellow students whose surnames also begin with S. I am in the second row, affording me yet more anonymity. I glance behind me and spot Ray sat up high in the bleachers. I give him a wave. He self-consciously gives me a half-wave, half-salute back. I sit and wait.

The auditorium fills quickly, and the buzz of excited voices gets louder and louder. The row of seats in front fills. On either side of me, I am joined by two girls whom I don't know from a different faculty. They're obviously close friends and talk across me excitedly.

At eleven precisely, the Chancellor appears from behind the stage, followed by the three Vice Chancellors, and then the senior professors, all decked out in their black and red regalia. We stand and applaud our teaching staff. Some Professors nod and wave, others look bored. Professor Collins, my tutor and my favorite teacher, looks like he's just fallen out of bed, as usual. Last on to the stage are Kate and Christian. Christian stands out in his bespoke gray suit, copper highlights glinting in his hair under the auditorium lights. He looks so serious and self-contained. As he sits, he undoes his single-breasted jacket, and I

glimpse his tie. _Holy shit… that tie! _I rub my wrists reflexively. I cannot take my eyes off him – his beauty as distracting as ever – and he's wearing that tie, on purpose no doubt. I can feel my mouth press into a hard line. The audience sits down and the applause ceases. "Look at him!" One of the girls beside me breathes enthusiastically to her friend.

"He's hot."

I stiffen. I'm sure they're not talking about Professor Collins. "Must be Christian Grey."

"Is he single?" I bristle.

"I don't think so," I murmur.

"Oh." Both girls look at me in surprise. "I think he's gay," I mutter.

"What a shame," one of the girls groans.

As the Chancellor gets to his feet and kicks off the proceedings with his speech, I watch Christian subtly scanning the hall. I sink into my seat, hunching my shoulders, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I fail miserably as a second later his gray eyes find mine. He stares at me, his face impassive, completely inscrutable. I squirm uncomfortably, hypnotized by his glare as I feel a slow flush spread across my face. Unbid- den, I recall my dream from this morning, and the muscles in my belly do the delectable clench thing. I inhale sharply. I can see the shadow of a smile cross his lips, but it's fleet- ing. He briefly closes his eyes, and on opening them, resumes his indifferent expression. Following a swift glance up at the Chancellor, he stares ahead, focusing on the WSUV em- blem hung above the entrance. He doesn't turn his eyes toward me again. The Chancellor drones on, and Christian still doesn't look at me, he just stares fixedly ahead.

Why won't he look at me? Perhaps he's changed his mind? A wave of unease washes over me. Perhaps walking out on him last night was the end for him too. He's bored of waiting for me to make up my mind. Oh no, I could have completely blown it. I remember his email last night. Maybe he's mad that I haven't replied.

Suddenly, the room erupts into applause as Miss Katherine Kavanagh has taken the stage. The Chancellor sits, and Kate tosses her lovely long hair behind her as she places her papers on the lectern. She takes her time, not intimidated by a thousand people gawp- ing at her. She smiles when she's ready, looks up at the captivated throng, and launches eloquently into her speech. She's so composed and funny, the girls beside me erupt on cue at her first joke_. Oh, Katherine Kavanagh, you can deliver a good line. _I feel so proud of her at that moment, my errant thoughts of Christian are pushed to one side. Even though I have heard her speech before, I listen carefully. She commands the room and takes her audience with her.

Her theme is What Next After College? Oh, what next indeed. Christian is watching Kate, his eyebrows slightly raised – in surprise, I think. Yes, it could have been Kate that went to interview him. And it could have been Kate that he was now making indecent proposals to. Beautiful Kate and beautiful Christian, together. I could be like the two girls beside me, admiring him from afar. I know Kate wouldn't have given him the time of day. What did she call him the other day? Creepy. The thought of a confrontation between Kate

and Christian makes me uncomfortable. I have to say I don't know which of them I would put my money on.

Kate concludes her speech with a flourish, and spontaneously everyone stands, ap- plauding and cheering, her first standing ovation. I beam at her and cheer, and she grins back at me. _Good job, Kate. _She sits, as does the audience, and the Chancellor rises and in- troduces Christian… _holy shit, _Christian's going to give a speech. The Chancellor touches briefly on Christian's achievements: CEO of his own extraordinarily successful company, a real self-made man.

"And also a major benefactor to our University, please welcome, Mr. Christian Grey." The Chancellor pumps Christian's hand, and there is a swell of polite applause. My heart's in my throat. He approaches the lectern and surveys the hall. He looks so confident standing in front of us all, as Kate did before him. The two girls beside me lean in, enrap- tured. In fact, I think most of the female members of the audience inch closer and a few of

the men. He begins, his voice soft, measured, and mesmerizing.

"I'm profoundly grateful and touched by the great compliment accorded to me by the authorities of WSU today. It offers me a rare opportunity to talk about the impressive work of the environmental science department here at the University. Our aim is to develop via- ble and ecologically sustainable methods of farming for third world countries; our ultimate goal is to help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe. Over a billion people, mainly in Sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America, live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world and the result is ecological and social destruction. I have known what it's like to be profoundly hungry. This is a very personal journey for me… "

My jaw falls to the floor. _What? _Christian was hungry once. _Holy crap. _Well, that ex- plains a great deal. And I recall the interview; he really _does _want to feed the world. I des- perately rack my brains to remember what Kate had written in her article. Adopted at age four, I think. I can't imagine that Grace starved him, so it must have been before then, as a little boy. I swallow, my heart constricting at the thought of a hungry, gray-eyed toddler. Oh no. What kind of life did he have before the Greys got hold of him and rescued him?

I'm seized by a sense of raw outrage, poor, fucked-up, kinky, philanthropic Christian – though I'm sure he wouldn't see himself this way and would repel any thoughts of sympa- thy or pity. Abruptly, everyone bursts into applause and stands. I follow, though I haven't heard half his speech. He's doing all of these good works, running a huge company, and chasing me at the same time. It's overwhelming. I remember the brief snippets of conver- sations he's had about Darfur… it all falls into place. _Food._

He smiles briefly at the warm applause – even Kate is clapping, then he resumes his seat. He doesn't look my way, and I'm off-kilter trying to assimilate this new information about him.

One of the Vice Chancellors rises, and we begin the long, tedious process of collecting our degrees. There are over four hundred to be given out, and it takes just over an hour before I hear my name. I make my way up to the stage between the two giggling girls. Christian gazes down at me, his gaze warm but guarded.

"Congratulations, Miss Steele," he says as he shakes my hand, squeezing it gently. I

feel the charge of his flesh on mine. "Do you have a problem with your laptop?"

I frown as he hands me my degree. "No."

"Then you _are _ignoring my emails?"

"I only saw the mergers and acquisitions one." He looks quizzically at me.

"Later," he says, and I have to move on because I'm holding up the line.

I go back to my seat. Emails? He must have sent another. What did it say?

The ceremony takes another hour to conclude. It's interminable. Finally, the Chan- cellor leads the faculty members off the stage to yet more rousing applause, preceded by Christian and Kate. Christian does not glance at me, even though I'm willing him to do it. My inner goddess is not pleased.

As I stand and wait for our row to disperse, Kate calls to me. She's heading my way from behind the stage.

"Christian wants to talk to you," she shouts. The two girls who are now standing be- side me turn and gape at me.

"He's sent me out here," she continues.

_Oh…_

"Your speech was great, Kate."

"It was, wasn't it?" she beams. "Are you coming? He can be very insistent." She rolls her eyes, and I grin.

"You have no idea. I can't leave Ray for long." I glance up at Ray and hold my fingers up indicating five minutes. He nods, giving me an okay sign, and I follow Kate into the corridor behind the stage. Christian is talking to the Chancellor and two of the teaching staff. He looks up when he sees me.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," I hear him murmur. He comes toward me and smiles briefly at Kate.

"Thank you," he says, and before she can reply, he takes my elbow and steers me into what looks like a men's locker room. He checks to see if it's empty, and then he locks the door.

_Holy shit, what does he have in mind? _I blink up at him as he turns on me.

"Why haven't you emailed me? Or texted me back?" He glares. I'm nonplussed.

"I haven't looked at my computer today, or my phone." Crap, has he been trying to call? I try my distraction technique that's so effective on Kate. "That was a great speech."

"Thank you."

"Explains your food issues to me."

He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated.

"Anastasia, I don't want to go there at the moment." He closes his eyes, looking pained. "I've been worried about you."

"Worried, why?"

"Because you went home in that deathtrap you call a car."

"What? It's not a deathtrap. It's fine. José regularly services it for me."

"José, the photographer?" Christian's eyes narrow, his face frosting. _Oh Crap._

"Yes, the Beetle used to belong to his mother."

"Yes, and probably her mother and her mother before her. It's not safe."

"I've been driving it for over three years. I'm sorry you were worried. Why didn't you call?" Jeez, he's completely over-reacting.

He takes a deep breath.

"Anastasia, I need an answer from you. This waiting around is driving me crazy." "Christian, I… look, I've left my stepdad on his own."

"Tomorrow. I want an answer by tomorrow."

"Okay. Tomorrow, I'll tell you then." I blink at him.

He steps back, regarding me coolly, and his shoulders relax. "Are you staying for drinks?" he asks.

"I don't know what Ray wants to do." "Your stepfather? I'd like to meet him." _Oh no… why?_

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Christian unlocks the door, his mouth in a grim line. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"No!" It's my turn to sound exasperated. "Introduce you to my dad as what? 'This is the man who deflowered me and wants us to start a BDSM relationship'. You're not wear- ing running shoes."

Christian glares down at me, and then his lips twitch up in a smile. And in spite of the fact I'm mad at him, my face is unwillingly pulled into an answering grin.

"Just so you know, I can run quite fast. Just tell him I'm your friend, Anastasia."

He opens the door, and I head out. My mind is whirling. The Chancellor, the three Vice Chancellors, four professors, and Kate stare at me as I walk hastily past them. _Holy crap. _Leaving Christian with the faculty I go in search of Ray.

_Tell him I'm your friend. _Friend with benefits, my subconscious scowls. I know, I know. I shake the unpleasant thought away. How will I introduce him to Ray? The hall is still at least half full, and Ray has not moved from his spot. He sees me, waves, and makes his way down.

"Hey, Annie. Congratulations." He puts his arm around me. "Would you like to come and have a drink in the marquee?" "Sure. It's your day. Lead the way."

"We don't have to if you don't want to." _Please say no…_

"Annie, I've just sat for two and half hours listening to all kinds of jabbering. I need a drink."

I put my arm through his, and we stroll out with the throng into the warmth of the early afternoon. We pass the line for the official photographer.

"Oh, that reminds me." Ray drags a digital camera out of his pocket. "One for the album, Annie." I roll my eyes at him as he snaps a picture of me.

"Can I take the cap and gown off now? I feel kind of dorky."

_You look kinda dorky_… my subconscious is at her snarky best. _So are you going to introduce Ray to the man you're fucking? _She is glaring at me over her wing-shaped spec- tacles. _He'd be so proud. _God, I hate her sometimes.

The marquee is immense, and crowded – students, parents, teachers, and friends, all chattering happily. Ray hands me a glass of champagne or cheap fizzy wine, I suspect. It's not chilled, and it tastes sweet. My thoughts turn to Christian… _he won't like this._

"Ana!" I turn, and Ethan Kavanagh scoops me into his arms. He twirls me around, without spilling my wine, some feat.

"Congratulations!" He beams down at me, green eyes twinkling.

What a surprise. His dirty blonde hair tousled and sexy-looking. He's as beautiful as

Kate. The family resemblance is striking.

"Wow – Ethan! How lovely to see you. Dad, this is Ethan, Kate's brother. Ethan, this is my dad, Ray Steele." They shake hands, my dad coolly assessing Mr. Kavanagh.

"When did you get back from Europe?" I ask.

"I've been back for a week, but I wanted to surprise my little sister," he says conspira- torially.

"That's so sweet." I grin up at him.

"She is Valedictorian, couldn't miss that." He looks immensely proud of his sister. "She gave a great speech."

"That she did," Ray agrees.

Ethan has his arm around my waist when I look up into the frosty gray eyes of Chris- tian Grey. Kate is beside him.

"Hello, Ray," Kate kisses Ray on both cheeks, making him blush. "Have you met

Ana's boyfriend? Christian Grey."

_Holy shit… Kate! Fuck! _All the blood drains from my face.

"Mr. Steele, it's a pleasure to meet you." Christian says smoothly, warmly, completely unflustered by Kate's introduction. He holds out his hand, which, all credit to Ray, Ray takes, not showing a hint of the drop-dead surprise he's just had thrust upon him.

_Thank you very much, Katherine Kavanagh, _I fume. I think my subconscious has fainted.

"Mr. Grey," Ray murmurs, his expression indecipherable except perhaps for the slight widening of his big brown eyes. They slide over my face with a when-were-you-going-to- give-me-this-news look. I bite my lip.

"And this is my brother, Ethan Kavanagh." says Kate to Christian. Christian turns his arctic glare on Ethan, who still has one arm around me. "Mr. Kavanagh."

They shake hands. Christian holds his hand out to me.

"Ana, baby," he murmurs, and I nearly expire at the endearment.

I walk out of Ethan's grasp, while Christian smiles icily at him, and I take my place at his side. Kate grins at me. She knows exactly what she's doing, the vixen!

"Ethan, Mom and Dad wanted a word." Kate drags Ethan away.

"So how long have you kids known each other?" Ray looks impassively from Christian to me.

The power of speech has deserted me. I want the ground to swallow me up. Christian puts his arm around me, his thumb skimming my naked back in a caress, before his hand clasps my shoulder.

"Couple of weeks or so now," he says smoothly. "We met when Anastasia came to interview me for the student magazine."

"Didn't know you worked on the student magazine, Ana." Ray's voice is a quiet ad- monishment, revealing his irritation. _Shit._

"Kate was ill," I murmur. It's all I can manage. "Fine speech you gave, Mr. Grey."

"Thank you, sir. I understand that you're a keen fisherman."

Ray raises his eyebrows and smiles – a rare, genuine, bona fide Ray Steele smile – and off they go, talking fish. In fact, I soon feel surplus to requirements. He's charming the pants off my dad… _like he did you, _my subconscious snaps at me. His power knows no bounds. I excuse myself to go and find Kate.

She's talking to her parents, who are delightful as ever and greet me warmly. We ex- change brief pleasantries, mostly about their up and coming holiday to Barbados and about our move.

"Kate, how could you out me to Ray?" I hiss at the first opportunity we won't be over- heard.

"Because I knew you never would, and I want to help with Christian's commitment issues." Kate smiles at me sweetly.

I scowl. _It's me that won't commit to him, silly!_

"He seems trés cool about it, Ana. Don't sweat it. Look at him now – Christian cannot take his eyes off you." I glance up, and both Ray and Christian are looking at me. "He's been watching you like a hawk."

"I'd better go rescue Ray or Christian. I don't know which. You haven't heard the last of this, Katherine Kavanagh!" I glare at her.

"Ana, I did you a favor," she calls after me. "Hi." I smile at both of them on my return.

They seem okay. Christian is enjoying some private joke, and my dad looks unbeliev- ably relaxed given he's in a social situation. _What have they been discussing apart from fish?_

"Ana, where are the restrooms?"

"Back out front of the marquee and to the left."

"See you in a moment. You kids enjoy yourselves."

Ray heads out. I glance nervously up at Christian. We pause briefly as a photographer takes a picture of both of us.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey." The photographer scurries off. I blink from the flash. "So you've charmed my father as well?"

"As well?" Christian's gray eyes burn, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. I flush. He lifts his hand and traces my cheek with his fingers.

"Oh, I wish I knew what you were thinking, Anastasia," he whispers darkly, cupping my chin and raising my head so that we gaze intently into each other's eyes.

My breath hitches. How can he have this effect on me, even in this crowded tent? "Right now, I'm thinking, nice tie," I breathe.

He chuckles.

"It's recently become my favorite."

I blush scarlet.

"You look lovely, Anastasia, this halter-neck dress suits you, and I get to stroke your back, feel your beautiful skin."

Suddenly, it's like we're on our own in the room. Just the two of us, my whole body has come alive, every nerve ending singing softly, that electricity pulling me to him, charg- ing between us.

"You know it's going to be good, don't you, baby?" he whispers. I close my eyes as my insides uncoil and melt.

"But I want more," I whisper.

"More?" he looks down at me puzzled, his eyes darkening. I nod and swallow. _Now he knows._

"More," he says again softly. Testing the word – a small, simple word, but so full of promise. His thumb traces my lower lip. "You want hearts and flowers."

I nod again. He blinks down at me, and I watch his internal struggle played out in his eyes.

"Anastasia." His voice is soft. "It's not something I know." "Me neither."

He smiles slightly.

"You don't know much," he murmurs. "You know all the wrong things."

"Wrong? Not to me." He shakes his head. He looks so sincere. "Try it," he whispers. A challenge, daring me, and he cocks his head to one side and smiles his crooked, dazzling smile.

I gasp, and I'm Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he's the serpent, and I cannot resist. "Okay," I whisper.

"What?" I have his full, undivided attention. I swallow. "Okay. I'll try."

"You're agreeing?" His disbelief is evident.

"Subject to the soft limits, yes. I'll try." My voice is so small. Christian closes his eyes and pulls me into an embrace.

"Jesus, Ana, you're so unexpected. You take my breath away."

He steps back, and suddenly Ray's returned, and the volume in the marquee gradually rises and fills my ears. We are not alone. _Holy shit, I've just agreed to be his sub. _Christian smiles at Ray, and his eyes are dancing with joy.

"Annie, should we get some lunch?"

"Okay." I blink up at Ray, trying to find my equilibrium. _What have you done? _My subconscious screams at me. My inner goddess is doing back flips in a routine worthy of a Russian Olympic gymnast.

"Would you like to join us, Christian?" Ray asks.

_Christian! _I stare up at him, imploring him to refuse. I need space to think… what the fuck have I done?

"Thank you, Mr. Steele, but I have plans. It's been great to meet you, sir." "Likewise," Ray responds. "Look after my baby girl."

"Oh, I fully intend to, Mr. Steele."

They shake hands. I feel sick. Ray has no idea how Christian intends to look after me. Christian takes my hand and raises it to his lips and kisses my knuckles tenderly, his scorching eyes intent on mine.

"Later, Miss Steele," he breathes, his voice full of promise. My belly curls at the thought… oh my. _Hang on… later?_

Ray takes my elbow and leads me toward the entrance to the tent.

"Seems a solid young man. Well-off too. You could do a lot worse, Annie. Though why I had to hear about him from Katherine," he scolds.

I shrug apologetically.

"Well, any man who likes and knows his fly-fishing is okay with me." Holy cow – Ray approves. If only he knew.

Ray drops me back at the house at dusk. "Call your mom," he says.

"I will. Thanks for coming, Dad."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Annie. You make me so proud."

_Oh no. _I'm not going to get emotional. A huge lump forms in my throat, and I hug him, hard. He puts his arms around me, bemused, and I can't help it – tears pool in my eyes.

"Hey, Annie, sweetheart," Ray croons. "Big old day… eh? Want me to come in and make you some tea?"

I laugh, in spite of my tears. Tea is always the answer according to Ray. I remember my mother complaining about him, saying that when it came to tea and sympathy, he was always good at the tea, not so hot on the sympathy.

"No, Dad, I'm good. It's been so great to see you. I'll visit real soon once I'm settled in Seattle."

"Good luck with the interviews. Let me know how they go." "Sure thing, Dad."

"Love you, Annie." "Love you too, Dad."

He smiles, his brown eyes warm, glowing, and he climbs back into his car. I wave him off as he drives into the dusk, and I wander listlessly back into the apartment.

First thing I do is check my cell phone. It needs recharging, so I have to hunt down the charger and plug it in before I can collect my messages. Four missed calls, one voice message, and two texts. Three missed calls from Christian… no messages. One missed call from José and a voice mail from him wishing me all the best for graduation.

I open the texts.

***Are you home safe***

***Call me***

They are both from Christian, why didn't he call the house? I head into my bedroom and fire up the mean machine.

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Tonight

**Date: **May 25 2011 23:58

**To: **Anastasia Steele

I hope you made it home in that car of yours. Let me know if you're okay.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Jeez... why is he so worried about my Beetle. It has given me three years of loyal service, and José has always been on hand to maintain it for me. Christian's next email is from today.

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Soft Limits

**Date: **May 26 2011 17:22

**To: **Anastasia Steele

What can I say that I haven't already? Happy to talk these through anytime. You looked beautiful today.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I want to see him. I hit reply

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **Soft Limits

**Date: **May 26 2011 19:23

**To: **Christian Grey

I can come over this evening to discuss if you'd like.

Ana

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Soft Limits

**Date: **May 26 2011 19:27

**To: **Anastasia Steele

I'll come to you. I meant it when I said I wasn't happy about you driving that car. I'll be with you shortly.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_Holy crap_… he's coming over now. I have to get one thing ready for him – the first edition Thomas Hardy books are still on the shelves in the living room. I cannot keep them. I wrap them in brown paper, and I scrawl on the wrapping a direct quote from Tess from the book:

"I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my punishment ought to be; only - only- don't make it more than I can bear!"

Chapter Fifteen

"Hi." I feel unbearably shy when I open the door. Christian is standing on the porch in his jeans and leather jacket.

"Hi," he says, and his face lights up with his radiant smile. I take a moment to admire the pretty. Oh my, he's hot in leather.

"Come in."

"If I may," he says amused. He holds up a bottle of champagne as he walks in. "I

thought we'd celebrate your graduation. Nothing beats a good Bollinger." "Interesting choice of words," I comment dryly.

He grins.

"Oh, I like your ready wit, Anastasia."

"We only have teacups. We've packed all the glasses." "Teacups? Sounds good to me."

I head into the kitchen. Nervous, butterflies flooding my stomach, it's like having a panther or mountain lion all unpredictable and predatory in my living room.

"Do you want saucers as well?"

"Teacups will be fine, Anastasia," Christian calls distractedly from the living room. When I return, he's staring at the brown parcel of books. I place the cups on the table. "That's for you," I murmur anxiously.

_Crap… this is probably going to be a fight._

"Hmm, I figured as much. Very apt quote." His long index finger absently traces the writing. "I thought I was D'Urberville, not Angel. You decided on the debasement." He gives me a brief wolfish smile. "Trust you to find something that resonates so appropri- ately."

"It's also a plea," I whisper. _Why am I so nervous? _My mouth is dry. "A plea? For me to go easy on you?"

I nod.

"I bought these for you," he says quietly his gaze impassive. "I'll go easier on you if you accept them."

I swallow convulsively.

"Christian, I can't accept them, they're just too much."

"You see, this is what I was talking about, you defying me. I want you to have them, and that's the end of the discussion. It's very simple. You don't have to think about this. As a submissive you would just be grateful for them. You just accept what I buy you be- cause it pleases me for you to do so."

"I wasn't a submissive when you bought them for me," I whisper. "No… but you've agreed, Anastasia." His eyes turn wary.

I sigh. I am not going to win this, so over to plan B. "So they are mine to do with as I wish?"

He eyes me suspiciously, but concedes. "Yes."

"In that case, I'd like to give them to a charity, one working in Darfur since that seems to be close to your heart. They can auction them."

"If that's what you want to do." His mouth sets into a hard line. He's disappointed. I flush.

"I'll think about it," I murmur, I don't want to disappoint him, and his words come back to me. _I want you to want to please me._

"Don't think, Anastasia. Not about this." His tone is quiet and serious.

How can I not think? _You can pretend to be a car, like his other possessions, _my sub- conscious makes an unwelcome vitriolic return. I ignore her. Oh, can't we rewind? The atmosphere between us is now tense. I don't know what to do. I stare down at my fingers. How do I retrieve this situation?

He puts the champagne bottle on the table and stands in front of me. Putting his hand under my chin, he tilts my head up. He gazes down at me, his expression grave.

"I will buy you lots of things, Anastasia. Get used to it. I can afford it. I'm a very wealthy man." He leans down and plants a swift, chaste kiss on my lips. "Please." He releases me.

_'Ho' _my subconscious mouths at me. "It makes me feel cheap," I murmur.

Christian runs his hand through his hair, exasperated.

"It shouldn't. You're over-thinking it, Anastasia. Don't place some vague moral judg- ment on yourself based on what others might think. Don't waste your energy. It's only because you have reservations about our arrangement, that's perfectly natural. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

I frown, trying to process his words.

"Hey, stop this," he commands softly, cupping my chin again and pulling at it gently so I release my lower lip from my teeth. "There is nothing about you that is cheap, Anastasia. I won't have you thinking that. I just bought you some old books that I thought might mean something to you, that's all. Have some champagne." His eyes warm and soften, and I smile tentatively back up at him. "That's better," he murmurs. He picks up the champagne, takes off the foil top and cage, twists the bottle rather than the cork, and opens it with a small pop and a practiced flourish that doesn't spill a drop. He half fills the cups.

"It's pink," I murmur, surprised.

"Bollinger Grande Année Rosé 1999, an excellent vintage," he says with relish. "In teacups."

He grins.

"In teacups. Congratulations on your degree, Anastasia." We clink cups, and he takes a drink, but I can't help thinking this is really about my capitulation.

"Thank you," I murmur and take a sip. Of course it's delicious. "Shall we go through the soft limits?"

He smiles, and I blush.

"Always so eager." Christian takes my hand and leads me to the couch where he sits and tugs me down beside him.

"You're stepfather's a very taciturn man."

_Oh… not soft limits then. I just want to get this out of the way; the anxiety is gnawing at me._

"You managed to have him eating out of your hand." I pout. Christian laughs softly.

"Only because I know how to fish." "How do you know he liked fishing?" "You told me. When we went for coffee."

"Oh… did I?" I take another sip. Wow he has a memory for detail. Hmm… this cham- pagne really is very good. "Did you try the wine at the reception?"

Christian makes a face. "Yes. It was foul."

"I thought of you when I tasted it. How did you get to be so knowledgeable about wine?"

"I'm not knowledgeable, Anastasia, I just know what I like." His gray eyes shine, almost silver, and it makes me flush. "Some more?" he asks, referring to the champagne.

"Please."

Christian rises gracefully and collects the bottle. He fills my cup. Is he getting me tipsy? I eye him suspiciously.

"This place looks pretty bare, are you ready for the move?" "More or less."

"Are you working tomorrow?" "Yes, my last day at Clayton's"

"I'd help you move, but I promised to meet my sister at the airport." Oh… this is news.

"Mia arrives from Paris very early Saturday morning. I'm heading back to Seattle tomorrow, but I hear Elliot is giving you two a hand."

"Yes, Kate is very excited about that." Christian frowns.

"Yes, Kate and Elliot, who would have thought?" he murmurs, and for some reason, he doesn't look pleased.

"So what are you doing about work in Seattle?"

_When are we going to talk about the limits? What's his game?_

"I have a couple of interviews for intern places."

"You were going tell me this when?" He arches a brow. "Err… I'm telling you now."

He narrows his eyes. "Where?"

For some reason, possibly because he might use his influence, I don't want to tell him. "A couple of publishing houses."

"Is that what you want to do, something in publishing?" I nod warily.

"Well?" He looks at me patiently wanting more information. "Well what?"

"Don't be obtuse, Anastasia, which publishing houses?" he scolds. "Just small ones," I murmur.

"Why don't you want me to know?" "Undue influence."

He frowns.

"Oh, now _you're _being obtuse." He laughs.

"Obtuse? Me? God, you're challenging. Drink up, let's talk about these limits." He fishes out another copy of my email and the list. Does he wander about with these lists in his pockets? I think there's one in his jacket that I have. Shit, I'd better not forget that. I drain my cup.

He glances quickly at me. "More?"

"Please."

He smiles that oh-so-smug-private smile of his, holds the champagne bottle up, and pauses.

"Have you eaten anything?" Oh no… not this old chestnut.

"Yes. I had a three course meal with Ray." I roll my eyes at him. The champagne is making me bold.

He leans forward and holds my chin, staring intently into my eyes. "Next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee." _What?!_

"Oh," I breathe, and I can see the excitement in his eyes.

"Oh," he responds, mirroring my tone. "So it begins, Anastasia."

My heart slams against my chest, and the butterflies escape from my stomach into my constricting throat. _Why is that hot?_

He fills my cup, and I drink practically all of it. Chastened, I stare up at him. "Got your attention now, haven't I?"

I nod.

"Answer me."

"Yes… you've got my attention."

"Good," he smiles a knowing smile. "So sexual acts. We've done most of this." I move closer to him on the couch and glance down at the list.

**APPENDIX 3**

Soft Limits

To be discussed and agreed between both parties:

Which of the following sexual acts are acceptable to the Submissive?

• Masturbation

• Fellatio

• Cunnilingus

• Vaginal intercourse

• Vaginal fisting

• Anal intercourse

• Anal fisting

"No fisting, you say. Anything else you object to?" he asks softly. I swallow.

"Anal intercourse doesn't exactly float my boat."

"I'll agree to the fisting, but I'd really like to claim your ass, Anastasia. But we'll wait for that. Besides, it's not something we can dive into," he smirks at me. "Your ass will need training."

"Training?" I whisper.

"Oh yes. It'll need careful preparation. Anal intercourse can be very pleasurable, trust me. But if we try it and you don't like it, we don't have to do it again." He grins down at me.

I blink up at him. He thinks I'll enjoy it? How does he know it's pleasurable? "Have you done that?" I whisper.

"Yes."

_Holy crap. _I gasp. "With a man?"

"No. I've never had sex with a man. Not my scene." "Mrs. Robinson?"

"Yes."

_Holy shit… how? _I frown. He moves on down the list.

"Okay… swallowing semen. Well, you get an A in that."

I flush, and my inner goddess smacks her lips together glowing with pride. "So." He looks down at me grinning. "Swallowing semen okay?"

I nod, not able to look him in the eye, and drain my cup again. "More?" he asks.

"More." And I'm suddenly reminded of our conversation earlier today as he refills my cup. Is he referring to that or just the champagne? Is this whole champagne thing more?

"Sex toys?" he asks.

I shrug, glancing down the list.

Is the use of sex toys acceptable to the Submissive?

• Vibrators

• Dildos

• Butt Plugs

• Other

"Butt plug? Does it do what it says on the tin?" I scrunch my nose up in distaste. "Yes," he smiles. "And I refer to anal intercourse above. Training."

"Oh… what's in other?"

"Beads, eggs… that sort of stuff." "Eggs?" I'm alarmed.

"Not real eggs," he laughs loudly, shaking his head. I purse my lips at him.

"I'm glad you find me funny." I can't keep my injured feelings out of my voice. He stops laughing.

"I apologize. Miss Steele, I'm sorry," he says, trying to look contrite, but his eyes are still dancing with humor. "Any problem with toys?"

"No," I snap.

"Anastasia," he cajoles. "I am sorry. Believe me. I don't mean to laugh. I've never had this conversation in so much detail. You're just so inexperienced. I'm sorry." His eyes are big and gray and sincere.

I thaw a little and take another sip of champagne.

"Right – bondage," he says, returning to the list. I examine the list, and my inner god- dess bounces up and down like a small child waiting for ice cream.

Is Bondage acceptable to the Submissive?

• Hands in front • Hands behind back

• Ankles • Knees

• Elbows

• Wrists to ankles

• Spreader bars

• Tied to furniture

• Blindfolding

• Gagging

• Bondage with Rope

• Bondage with Tape

• Bondage with leather cuffs

• Suspension

• Bondage with handcuffs/metal restraints

"We've talked about suspension. And it's fine if you want to set that up as a hard limit. It takes a great deal of time, and I only have you for short periods of time anyway. Anything else?"

"Don't laugh at me, but what's a spreader bar?"

"I promise not to laugh. I've apologized twice." He glares at me. "Don't make me do it again," he warns. And I think I visibly shrink... oh, he's so bossy. "A spreader is a bar with cuffs for ankles and/or wrists. They're fun."

"Okay… Well gagging me. I'd be worried I wouldn't be able to breathe" "_I'd _be worried if you couldn't breathe. I don't want to suffocate you." "And how will I use safe words if I'm gagged?"

He pauses.

"First of all, I hope you never have to use them. But if you're gagged, we'll use hand signals," he says simply.

I blink up at him. But if I'm trussed up, how's that going to work? My brain is begin- ning to fog… _hmm alcohol._

"I'm nervous about the gagging." "Okay. I'll take note."

I stare up at him, realization dawning.

"Do you like tying your submissives up so they can't touch you?" He gazes at me, his eyes widening.

"That's one of the reasons," he says quietly. "Is that why you've tied my hands?"

"Yes."

"You don't like talking about that," I murmur.

"No, I don't. Would you like another drink? It's making you brave, and I need to know how you feel about pain."

Holy crap… this is the tricky part. He refills my teacup, and I sip.

"So, what's your general attitude to receiving pain?" Christian looks expectantly at me. "You're biting your lip," he says darkly.

I stop immediately, but I don't know what to say. I flush and stare down at my hands. "Were you physically punished as a child?"

"No."

"So you have no sphere of reference at all?" "No."

"It's not as bad as you think. Your imagination is your worst enemy in this," he whis- pers.

"Do you have to do it?" "Yes."

"Why?"

"Goes with the territory, Anastasia. It's what I do. I can see you're nervous. Let's go through methods."

He shows me the list. My subconscious runs, screaming, and hides behind the couch.

• Spanking

• Paddling

• Whipping

• Caning

• Biting

• Nipple clamps

• Genital clamps

• Ice

• Hot wax

• Other types/methods of pain

"Well, you said no to genital clamps. That's fine. It's caning that hurts the most." I blanch.

"We can work up to that."

"Or not do it at all," I whisper.

"This is part of the deal, baby, but we'll work up to all of this. Anastasia, I won't push you too far."

"This punishment thing, it worries me the most." My voice is very small.

"Well, I'm glad you've told me. We'll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more comfortable with this stuff, we'll increase intensity. We'll take it slow."

I swallow, and he leans forward and kisses me on my lips. "There, that wasn't so bad was it?"

I shrug, my heart in mouth again.

"Look, I want to talk about one more thing, then I'm taking you to bed."

"Bed?" I blink rapidly, and my blood pounds round my body, warming places I didn't know existed until very recently.

"Come on, Anastasia, talking through all this, I want to fuck you into next week, right now. It must be having some effect on you too."

I squirm. My inner goddess is panting.

"See? Beside, there's something I want to try." "Something painful?"

"No – stop seeing pain everywhere. It's mainly pleasure. Have I hurt you yet?" I flush.

"No."

"Well then. Look, earlier today you were talking about wanting more," he halts, un- certain all of a sudden.

_Oh my… where's this going?_

He clasps my hand.

"Outside of the time you're my sub, perhaps we could try. I don't know if it will work. I don't know about separating everything. It may not work. But I'm willing to try. Maybe one night a week. I don't know."

Holy cow… my mouth drops open, my subconscious is in shock, _Christian Grey is up for more! _He's willing to try! My subconscious peeks out from behind the couch, still registering shock on her harpy face.

"I have one condition." He looks warily at my stunned expression. "What?" I breathe. Anything. I'll give you anything.

"You graciously accept my graduation present to you."

"Oh." And deep down I know what it is. Dread spawns in my belly. He's staring down at me, gauging my reaction.

"Come," he murmurs and rises, dragging me up. Taking his jacket off, he drapes it over my shoulders and heads for the door.

Parked outside is a red hatchback car, a two-door compact Audi.

"It's for you. Happy graduation," he murmurs, pulling me into his arms and kissing my hair.

He's bought me a damned car, brand new by the looks of it. Jeez… I've had enough trouble with the books. I stare at it blankly, trying desperately to determine how I feel about this. I am appalled on one level, grateful on another, shocked that he's actually done it, but the overriding emotion is anger. Yes, I'm angry, especially after everything I told him about the books… but then he'd already bought this. Taking my hand, he leads me down the path toward this new acquisition.

"Anastasia, that Beetle of yours is old and frankly dangerous. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you when it's so easy for me to make it right," he trails

off.

His eyes are on me, but at the moment I cannot bring myself to look at him. I stand silently staring at its awesome bright red newness.

"I mentioned it to your stepfather. He was all for it," he murmurs. Turning, I glare at him, my mouth open in horror.

"You mentioned this to Ray. How could you?" I can barely spit the words out. _How dare he? _Poor Ray. I feel sick, mortified for my dad.

"It's a gift, Anastasia. Can't you just say thank you?" "But you know it's too much."

"Not to me it isn't, not for my peace of mind."

I frown at him, at a loss what to say. He just doesn't get it! He's had money all his life. Okay, not all his life – not as a small child – and my world-view shifts. The thought is very sobering, and I soften towards the car, feeling guilty about my fit of pique. His intentions are good, misguided, but not from a bad place.

"I'm happy for you to loan this to me, like the laptop." He sighs heavily.

"Okay. On loan. Indefinitely." He looks warily at me. "No, not indefinitely, but for now. Thank you."

He frowns. I reach up and kiss him briefly on his cheek. "Thank you for the car, sir." I say as sweetly as I can manage.

He grabs me suddenly and yanks me up against him, one hand at my back holding me to him and the other fisting in my hair.

"You are one challenging woman, Ana Steele." He kisses me passionately, forcing my lips apart with his tongue, taking no prisoners.

My blood heats immediately, and I'm returning his kiss with my own passion. I want him badly – in spite of the car, the books, the soft limits… the caning… I want him.

"It's taking all my self-control not to fuck you on the hood of this car right now, just to show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a fucking car, I'll buy you a fucking car," he growls. "Now let's get you inside and naked." He plants a swift rough kiss on me.

Boy, he's angry. He grabs my hand and leads me back into the apartment and straight into my bedroom… no passing go. My subconscious is behind the sofa again, head hidden under her hands. He switches on the sidelight and halts, staring at me.

"Please don't be angry with me," I whisper.

His gaze is impassive; his gray eyes cold shards of smoky glass.

"I'm sorry about the car and the books," I trail off. He remains silent and brooding. "You scare me when you're angry," I breathe, staring at him.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, his expression has soft- ened fractionally. He takes a deep breath and swallows.

"Turn round," he whispers. "I want to get you out of that dress."

Another mercurial mood swing, it's so hard to keep up. Obediently, I turn and my heart is thumping, desire instantly replacing unease, coursing through my blood and settling dark and yearning low, low in my belly. He scoops my hair off my back so it hangs down my right side, curling at my breast. He places his index finger at the nape of my neck and ach- ingly slowly drags it down my spine. His well-manicured fingernail gently grazes down my back.

"I like this dress," he murmurs. "I like to see your flawless skin."

His finger reaches the back of my halter dress midway down my spine, and hooking his finger beneath the top, he pulls me closer so that I step back against him. I feel him flush against my body. Leaning down, he inhales my hair.

"You smell so good, Anastasia. So sweet." His nose skims past my ear down my neck, and he trails soft, feather light kisses along my shoulder.

My breathing changes, becoming shallow, rushed, full of expectation. His fingers are at my zipper. Achingly slow, once more he eases it down while his lips move, licking and kissing and sucking their way across to my other shoulder. He is so tantalizingly good at this. My body resonates, and I start to squirm languidly beneath his touch.

"You. Are. Going. To. Have. To. Learn. To. Keep. Still," he whispers, kissing me around my nape between each word.

He tugs at the fastening at the halter neck, and the dress drops and pools at my feet. "No bra, Miss Steele. I like that."

His hands reach round and cup my breasts, and my nipples pucker at his touch. "Lift your arms and put them around my head," he murmurs against my neck.

I obey immediately, and my breasts rise and push into his hands, my nipples hardening further. My fingers weave into his hair, and very gently I tug his soft, sexy hair. I roll my head to one side to give him easier access to my neck.

"Mmm… " he murmurs into that space behind my ear, as he starts to extend my nipples with his long fingers, mirroring my hands in his hair.

I groan as the sensation registers sharp and clear in my groin. "Shall I make you come this way?" he whispers.

I arch my back to force my breasts into his expert hands. "You like this, don't you, Miss Steele?"

"Mmm… "

"Tell me." He continues the slow sensuous torture, pulling gently. "Yes."

"Yes, what." "Yes… Sir."

"Good girl." He pinches me hard, and my body writhes convulsively against his front. I gasp at the exquisite, acute, pleasure/pain. I feel him against me. I moan and my

hands clench in his hair pulling harder.

"I don't think you're ready to come yet," he whispers, stilling his hands, and he gently bites my earlobe and tugs at it. "Besides, you have displeased me."

_Oh… no, what will this mean? _My brain registers through the fog of needy desire as

I groan.

"So perhaps I won't let you come after all." He returns the attention of his fingers to my nipples, pulling, twisting, kneading. I grind my behind against him… moving side to side.

I feel his grin against my neck as his hands move down to my hips. His fingers hook into my panties at the back, stretching them, and he pushes his thumbs through the mate- rial, shredding them and tossing them in front of me so I can see_… holy shit. _His hands move down to my sex… and from behind, he slowly inserts his finger.

"Oh, yes. My sweet girl is all ready," he breathes as he whirls me round so I'm facing him. His breathing has quickened. He puts his finger in his mouth. "You taste so fine, Miss Steele." He sighs. "Undress me," he commands quietly, staring down at me, eyes hooded.

All I'm wearing is my shoes, well, Kate's high-heeled pumps. I'm taken aback. I've never undressed a man.

"You can do it," he cajoles softly.

_Oh my. _I blink rapidly. Where to start? I reach for his t-shirt, and he grabs my hands and shakes his head, smiling slyly at me.

"Oh no." He shakes his head, grinning. "Not the t-shirt, you may need to touch me for what I have planned." His eyes are alive with excitement.

_Oh… this is news… I can touch with clothes. _He takes one of my hands and places it against his erection.

"This is the effect you have on me, Miss Steele."

I gasp and flex my fingers around his girth, and he grins.

"I want to be inside you. Take my jeans off. You're in charge."

_Holy fuck… me in charge. _My mouth drops open. "What are you going to do with me?" he teases.

_Oh the possibilities_… my inner goddess roars, and from somewhere born of frustra- tion, need, and sheer Steele bravery, I push him on to the bed. He laughs as he falls, and I gaze down at him feeling victorious. My inner goddess is going to explode. I yank off his shoes, quickly, clumsily, and his socks. He's staring up at me, his eyes luminous with amusement and desire. He looks… glorious… _mine. _I crawl up the bed and sit astride him to undo his jeans, sliding my fingers under the waistband, feeling the hair in his oh so happy trail. He closes his eyes and flexes his hips.

"You'll have to learn to keep still," I scold, and I tug at the hair under his waistband. His breath hitches, and he grins at me.

"Yes, Miss Steele," he murmurs, eyes burning bright. "In my pocket, condom," he breathes.

I search in his pocket slowly, watching his face as I feel around. His mouth is open. I fish out both foil packets that I find and lay them on the bed by his hips. _Two! _My over- eager fingers reach for the button of his waistband and undo it, fumbling a little. I am beyond excited.

"So eager, Miss Steele," he murmurs, his voice laced with humor. I tug down the zip- per, and now I'm faced with the problem of removing his pants… _hmm. _I shuffle down and pull. They hardly move. I frown. How can this be so difficult?

"I can't keep still if you're going to bite that lip," he warns, then arches his pelvis up off the bed so I'm able to tug down his trousers and his boxers at the same time, whoa… freeing him. He kicks his clothes to the floor.

Holy Moses, he's all mine to play with, and suddenly it's Christmas.

"Now what are you going to do?" he breathes, all trace of humor gone. I reach up and touch him, watching his expression as I do. His mouth shapes like a letter O as he takes a sharp breath. His skin is so smooth and soft… and hard… hmm, what a delicious combina- tion. I lean forward, my hair falling around me, and he's in my mouth. I suck, hard. He closes his eyes, his hips jerking beneath me.

"Jeez, Ana, steady," he groans.

I feel so powerful, it's such a heady feeling, teasing and testing him with my mouth and tongue. He tenses underneath me as I run my mouth up and down him, pushing him to the back of my throat, my lips tight… again and again.

"Stop, Ana, stop. I don't want to come."

I sit up, blinking at him, and I'm panting like him, but confused. _I thought I was in charge? _My inner goddess looks like someone snatched her ice cream.

"You're innocence and enthusiasm is very disarming," he gasps. "You, on top… that's what we need to do."

_Oh._

"Here, put this on." He hands me a foil packet.

_Holy Crap. How? _I rip the packet open, and the rubbery condom is all tacky in my fingers.

"Pinch the top and then roll it down. You don't want any air in the end of that sucker,"

he pants.

And very slowly, concentrating hard, I do as I'm told. "Christ, you're killing me here, Anastasia," he groans.

I admire my handiwork and him. He really is a fine specimen of a man, looking at him is very, very arousing.

"Now. I want to be buried inside you," he murmurs. I stare down at him, daunted, and he sits up suddenly, so we're nose to nose.

"Like this," he breathes, and he snakes one hand round my hips, lifting me slightly, and with the other he positions himself beneath me, and very slowly, eases me on to him.

I groan as he stretches me open, filling me, my mouth hanging open in surprise at the sweet, sublime, agonizing, over-full feeling. _Oh… please._

"That's right, baby, feel me, all of me," he growls and briefly closes his eyes.

And he's inside me, sheathed to the hilt, and he holds me in place, for seconds… min- utes… I have no idea,, staring intently into my eyes.

"It's deep this way," he murmurs. He flexes and swivels his hips in the same motion, and I groan… oh my – the sensation radiates throughout my belly… everywhere. _Fuck!_

"Again," I whisper. He grins a lazy grin and obliges.

Moaning, I throw my head back, my hair tumbling down my back, and very slowly, he sinks back down on to the bed.

"You move, Anastasia, up and down, how you want. Take my hands," he breathes, his voice hoarse and low and oh so sexy.

I clasp his hands, holding on for life. Gently I push off him and back down, _oh my_. His eyes are burning with wild anticipation. His breathing is ragged, matching mine, and he lifts his pelvis as I come down, bouncing me back up. We pick up the rhythm… up, down, up, down… over and over… and it feels so… good. Between my panting breaths, the deep down, brimming fullness… the vehement sensation pulsing through me that's building quickly, I watch him, our eyes locked… and I see wonder there, wonder at me.

I am fucking him. I am in charge. He's mine, and I'm his. The thought pushes me, weighted with concrete, over the edge, and I climax around him… shouting incoherently. He grabs my hips, and closing his eyes, tipping his head back, his jaw strained, he comes quietly. I collapse on to his chest, overwhelmed, somewhere between fantasy and reality, a place where there are no hard or soft limits.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Sixteen

Slowly the outside world invades my senses, and oh my, what an invasion. I am floating, my limbs soft and languid, utterly spent. I'm lying on top of him, my head on his chest, and he smells divine: fresh, laundered linen and some expensive body wash, and the best, most seductive scent on the planet… Christian. I don't want to move, I want to breathe this elixir for eternity. I nuzzle him, wishing I didn't have the barrier of his t-shirt. And as rhyme and reason return to the rest of my body, I stretch my hand out on his chest. This is the first time I've touched him here. He's firm… strong. His hand swoops up and grabs mine, but he softens the blow by pulling it to his mouth and sweetly kissing my knuckles. He rolls over so he's gazing down at me.

"Don't," he murmurs, then kisses me lightly.

"Why don't you like to be touched?" I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes. "Because I'm fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia."

Oh… his honesty is completely disarming. I blink up at him.

"I had a very tough introduction to life. I don't want to burden you with the details. Just don't." He strokes his nose against mine, and then he pulls out of me and sits up.

"I think that's all the very basics covered. How was that?"

He looks thoroughly pleased with himself and sounds very matter-of-fact at the same time, like he's just marked another tick box in a checklist. I'm still reeling from the tough introduction to life comment. It's so frustrating – I am desperate to know more. But he

won't tell me. I cock my head to one side, like he does, and make an enormous effort to smile at him.

"If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well you haven't taken into account my GPA." I smile shyly at him. "But thank you for the illusion."

"Miss Steele, you are not just a pretty face. You've had six orgasms so far and all of them belong to me," he boasts, playful again.

I flush and blink at the same time, as he stares down at me. _He's keeping count! _His brow furrows.

"Do you have something to tell me?" his voice is suddenly stern. I frown_. Crap._

"I had a dream this morning." "Oh?" He glares at me.

_Double crap. Am I in trouble?_

"I came in my sleep." I throw my arm over my eyes. He says nothing. I peek up at him from under my arm, and he looks amused.

"In your sleep?" "Woke me up."

"I'm sure it did. What were you dreaming about?"

_Crap._

"You."

"What was I doing?"

I throw my arm over my eyes again. And like a small child, I briefly entertain the thought that if I can't see him, then he can't see me.

"Anastasia, what was I doing? I won't ask you again." "You had a riding crop."

He moves my arm. "Really?"

"Yes." I am crimson.

"There's hope for you yet," he murmurs. "I have several riding crops." "Brown plaited leather?"

He laughs.

"No, but I'm sure I could get one." His gray eyes blaze with excitement.

Leaning down, he gives me a brief kiss then stands and grabs his boxers, _oh no… he's going. _I glance quickly at the time – it's only nine-forty. I scoot out of bed too and grab my sweat pants and a cami top, then sit back on the bed, cross-legged, watching him. I don't want him to go. What can I do?

"When is your period due?" He interrupts my thoughts.

_What!_

"I hate wearing these things," he grumbles. He holds up the condom, then puts it on the floor, and slips on his jeans.

"Well?" he prompts when I don't reply, and he looks at me expectantly as if he's wait- ing for my opinion on the weather. Holy crap… this is personal stuff.

"Next week." I stare down at my hands. "You need to sort out some contraception."

He is so bossy. I stare at him blankly. He sits back on the bed as he puts on his shoes and socks.

"Do you have a doctor?"

I shake my head. We are back to mergers and acquisitions – another 180-degree mood swing.

He frowns.

"I can have mine come and see you at your apartment – Sunday morning before you come and see me. Or he can see you at my place. Which would you prefer?"

_No pressure then. _Something else that he's paying for… but actually this is for his benefit.

"Your place." That means I am guaranteed to see him Sunday. "Okay. I'll let you know the time."

"Are you leaving?"

_Don't go… stay with me please._

"Yes."

_Why?_

"How are you getting back?" I whisper. "Taylor will pick me up."

"I can drive you. I have a lovely new car." He gazes at me, his expression warm.

"That's more like it. But I think you've had too much to drink." "Did you get me tipsy on purpose?"

"Yes." "Why?"

"Because you over-think everything, and you're reticent like your stepdad. A drop of wine in you and you start talking, and I need you to communicate honestly with me. Oth- erwise you clam up, and I have no idea what you're thinking. In vino veritas, Anastasia."

"And you think you're always honest with me?"

"I endeavor to be." He looks down at me warily. "This will only work if we're honest with each other."

"I'd like you to stay and use this." I hold up the second condom. He smiles and his eyes glow with humor.

"Anastasia, I have crossed so many lines here tonight. I have to go. I'll see you on

Sunday. I'll have the revised contract ready for you, and then we can really start to play." "Play?" _Holy shit. _My heart leaps into my mouth.

"I'd like to do a scene with you. But I won't until you've signed, so I know you're ready."

"Oh. So I could stretch this out, if I don't sign?"

He gazes at me assessing, and then his lips twitch into a smile. "Well, I suppose you could, but I may crack under the strain."

"Crack? How?" My inner goddess has woken and is paying attention. He nods slowly, and then he grins, teasing.

"Could get really ugly." His grin is infectious.

"Ugly, how?"

"Oh you know, explosions, car chases, kidnapping, incarceration." "You'd kidnap me?"

"Oh yes," he grins.

"Hold me against my will?" _Jeez this is hot._

"Oh yes," he nods. "And then we're talking TPE 24/7."

"You've lost me," I breathe, my heart is pounding… _is he serious?_

"Total Power Exchange – round the clock." His eyes are shining, and I can feel his excitement from where I sit.

_Holy shit._

"So you have no choice," he says sardonically.

"Clearly." I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice as my eyes reach for the heavens. "Oh, Anastasia Steele, did you just roll your eyes at me?"

_Crap._

"No," I squeak.

"I think you did. What did I say I'd do to you if you rolled your eyes at me again?"

_Shit. _He sits down on the edge of the bed. "Come here," he says softly.

I blanch. Jeez… he's serious. I sit staring at him completely immobile. "I haven't signed," I whisper.

"I told you what I'd do. I'm a man of my word. I'm going to spank you, and then I'm going to fuck you very quick and very hard. Looks like we'll need that condom after all." His voice is so soft, menacing, and _it's damned hot_. My insides practically contort with potent, needy, liquid, desire. He gazes at me, waiting, eyes blazing. Tentatively, I uncurl my legs. _Should I run? _This is it, our relationship hangs in the balance, right here, right now. Do I let him do this or do I say no, and then that's it? Because I know it will be over if I say no. _Do it! _My inner goddess pleads with me, my subconscious is as paralyzed as

I am.

"I'm waiting," he says. "I'm not a patient man."

_Oh for the love of all that's holy. _I'm panting, afraid, turned on. Blood pounding through my body, my legs are like jelly. Slowly, I crawl over to him until I am beside him.

"Good girl," he murmurs. "Now stand up."

Oh shit… can't he just get this over with? I'm not sure if I can stand. Hesitantly, I clamber to my feet. He holds his hand out, and I place the condom in his palm. Suddenly he grabs me, tipping me across his lap. With one smooth movement, he angles his body so my torso is resting on the bed beside him. He throws his right leg over both of mine and plants his left forearm on the small of my back, holding me down so I cannot move. _Oh fuck._

"Put your hands up on either side of your head," he orders. I obey immediately.

"Why am I doing this, Anastasia?" he asks.

"Because I rolled my eyes at you," I can barely speak. "Do you think that's polite?"

"No."

"Will you do it again?" "No."

"I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?"

Very slowly, he pulls down my sweatpants. Oh, how demeaning is this, demeaning and scary and hot. He's making such a meal of this. My heart is in my mouth. I can barely breathe. _Shit, is this going to hurt?_

He places his hand on my naked behind, softly fondling me, stroking round and round with his flat palm. And then his hand is no longer there… and he hits me – hard. _Ow! _My eyes spring open in response to the pain, and I try to rise, but his hand moves between my shoulder blades keeping me down. He caresses me again where he's hit me, and his breath- ing's changed – it's louder, harsher. He hits me again and again, quickly in succession. _Holy fuck it hurts. _I make no sound, my face screwed up against the pain. I try and wriggle away from the blows – spurred on by adrenaline spiking and coursing through my body.

"Keep still," he growls. "Or I'll spank you for longer."

He's rubbing me now, and the blow follows. A rhythmic pattern emerges, caress, fondle, slap hard. I have to concentrate to handle this pain. My mind empties as I endeavor to absorb the grueling sensation. He doesn't hit me in the same place twice in succession

– he's spreading the pain.

"Aargh!" I cry out on the tenth slap – and I'm unaware that I have been mentally count- ing the blows.

"I'm just getting warmed up."

He hits me again then he strokes me softly. The combination of the hard stinging blow and his gentle caress is so mind numbing. He hits me again… this is getting harder to take. My face hurts, it's screwed up so tight. He strokes me gently and then the blow comes. I cry out again.

"No one to hear you, baby, just me."

And he hits me again and again. From somewhere deep inside, I want to beg him to stop. But I don't. I don't want to give him the satisfaction. He continues the unrelenting rhythm. I cry out six more times. Eighteen slaps in total. My body is singing, singing from his merciless assault.

"Enough," he breathes hoarsely. "Well done, Anastasia. Now I'm going to fuck you." He caresses my behind gently, and it burns as he strokes me round and round and down. Suddenly, he inserts two fingers inside me, taking me completely by surprise. I

gasp, this new assault breaking through the numbness around my brain.

"Feel this. See how much your body likes this, Anastasia. You're soaking just for me." There is awe in his voice. He moves his fingers, in and out in quick succession.

I groan, no surely not, and then his fingers are gone… and I'm left wanting. "Next time, I will get you to count. Now where's that condom?"

He reaches beside him for the condom and lifts me gently, pushing me face down onto the bed. I hear the sound of his zipper and the rip of the foil. He drags my sweatpants off and then guides me into a kneeling position, gently caressing my now very sore behind.

"I'm going to take you now. You can come," he murmurs.

_What? Like I have a choice._

And he's inside me, quickly filling me, I moan loudly. He moves, pounding into me, a fast, intense pace against my sore behind. The feeling is beyond exquisite, raw and debas- ing and mind blowing. My senses are ravaged, disconnected, solely concentrating on what he's doing to me. How he's making me feel, that familiar pull deep in my belly, tightening, quickening. NO… and my traitorous body explodes in an intense, body-shattering orgasm. "Oh, Ana!" he cries out loudly as he finds his release, holding me in place as he pours himself into me. He collapses, panting hard beside me, and he pulls me on top of him and

buries his face in my hair, holding me close.

"Oh, baby," he breathes. "Welcome to my world."

We lie there, panting together, waiting for our breathing to slow. He gently strokes my hair. I'm on his chest again. But this time, I don't have the strength to lift my hand and feel him. _Boy… I survived. _That wasn't so bad. I'm more stoic than I thought. My inner goddess is prostrate… well at least she's quiet. Christian nuzzles my hair again, inhaling deeply.

"Well done, baby," he whispers, quiet joy in his voice. His words curl around me like a soft fluffy towel from the Heathman Hotel, and I'm so pleased that he's happy.

He picks at the strap on my camisole.

"Is this what you sleep in?" he asks gently. "Yes," I breathe sleepily.

"You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I'll take you shopping." "I like my sweats," I murmur, trying and failing to sound irritated.

He kisses my head again. "We'll see," he says.

We lie for a few more minutes, hours, who knows, and I think I doze.

"I have to go," he says, and leaning down, he kisses my forehead gently. "Are you okay?" His voice is soft.

I think about his question. My backside is sore. Well, glowing now, and amazingly I feel, apart from exhausted, radiant. The realization is humbling, unexpected. I don't understand. _Holy shit._

"I'm okay," I whisper. I don't want to say more than that. He rises.

"Where's your bathroom?" "Along the corridor to the left."

He scoops up the other condom and heads out of the bedroom. I rise stiffly and put my sweatpants back on. They chafe a little against my still-smarting behind. I'm so confused by my reaction. I remember him saying – I can't remember when – that I would feel so much better after a good hiding. _How can that be so? _I really don't get it. But strangely, I do. I can't say that I enjoyed the experience, in fact, I would still go a long way to avoid it, but now… I have this safe, weird, bathed in afterglow, sated feeling. I put my head in my hands. I just don't understand.

Christian re-enters the room. I can't look him in the eye. I stare down at my hands. "I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind."

_What?_

"No. I'll be fine."

"Anastasia," he warns, and I want to roll my eyes but quickly stop myself. I stand fac- ing the bed. Sitting beside me, he gently pulls my sweatpants down again. _Up and down like whores' drawers _my subconscious remarks bitterly. In my head, I tell her where to go. Christian squirts baby oil into his hand and then rubs my behind with careful tenderness

– from makeup remover to smoothing balm for a spanked ass, who would have thought it was such a versatile liquid.

"I like my hands on you," he murmurs, and I have to agree, me too. "There," he says when he's finished, and he pulls my pants up again. I glance over at my clock. It's ten-thirty.

"I'm leaving now."

"I'll see you out." I still can't look at him.

Taking my hand, he leads me to the front door. Fortunately, Kate is still not home. She must still be having dinner with her folks and Ethan. I'm really glad she's not been around to hear my chastisement.

"Don't you have to call Taylor?" I ask, avoiding eye contact. "Taylor's been here since nine. Look at me," he breathes.

I struggle to meet his eyes, but when I do, he's gazing down at me with wonder.

"You didn't cry," he murmurs, then grabs me suddenly and kisses me fervently. "Sun- day," he whispers against my lips, and it's both a promise and a threat.

I watch him walk down the path and climb into the big black Audi. He doesn't look back. I close the door and stand helpless in the living room of an apartment that I shall only spend another two nights in. A place I have lived happily for almost four years… yet today, for the first time ever, I feel lonely and uncomfortable here, unhappy with my own company. Have I strayed so far from who I am? I know that lurking, not very far under my rather numb exterior, is a well of tears. What am I doing? The irony is I can't even sit down and enjoy a good cry. I'll have to stand. I know it's late, but I decide to call my mom. "Honey, how are you? How was graduation?" she enthuses down the phone. Her

voice is a soothing balm.

"Sorry it's so late," I whisper. She pauses.

"Ana? What's wrong?" She's all seriousness now. "Nothing, Mom, I just wanted to hear your voice." She's silent for a moment.

"Ana, what is it? Please tell me." Her voice is soft and comforting, and I know that she cares. Uninvited, my tears begin to flow. I have cried so often in the last few days.

"Please, Ana," she says, and her anguish reflects mine. "Oh, Mom, it's a man."

"What's he done to you?" Her alarm is palpable.

"It's not like that." _Although it is_… Oh crap. I don't want to worry her. I just want someone else to be strong for me at the moment.

"Ana, please, you're worrying me." I take a big breath.

"I've kind of fallen for this guy, and he's so different from me, and I don't know if we should be together."

"Oh, darling. I wish I could be with you. I am so sorry I missed your graduation. You've fallen for someone, finally. Oh, honey, men, they are so tricky. They're a different species, honey. How long have you known him?"

Christian is definitely a different species… _different planet._

"Oh, nearly three weeks or so."

"Ana, darling, that's no time at all. How can you possibly know someone in that kind of time frame? Just take it easy with him and keep him at arm's length until you decide whether he's worthy of you."

Wow… it's unnerving when my mother is so insightful, but she's just too late on this. Is he _worthy _of me? That's an interesting concept. I always wonder whether I am worthy of him.

"Honey, you sound so unhappy. Come home – visit with us. I miss you, darling. Bob would love to see you too. You can get some distance and maybe some perspective. You need a break. You've been working so hard."

Oh boy, is this tempting. Run away to Georgia. Grab some sunshine, some cocktails. My mother's good humor… her loving arms.

"I have two job interviews in Seattle on Monday." "Oh, that's wonderful news."

The door opens and Kate appears, grinning at me. Her face falls when she sees I've been crying.

"Mom, I have to go. I'll think about a visit. Thank you."

"Honey, please, don't let a man get under your skin. You're far too young. Go and enjoy yourself."

"Yes, Mom, love you."

"Oh, Ana, I love you too, so much. Stay safe, honey." I hang up and face Kate who glares at me.

"Has that obscenely rich fucker upset you again?" "No… sort of… err… yes."

"Just tell him to take a hike, Ana. You've been so up and down since you met him. I've never seen you like this."

The world of Katherine Kavanagh is very clear, very black and white. Not the intan- gible, mysterious, vague hues of gray that color my world_. Welcome to my world._

"Sit, let's talk. Let's have some wine. Oh, you've had champagne." She spies the bottle. "Some good stuff too."

I smile ineffectually, looking apprehensively at the couch. I approach it with caution.

_Hmm… sitting._

"Are you okay?"

"I fell over and landed on my behind."

She doesn't think to question my explanation, because I am one of the most un-coor- dinated people in Washington State. I never thought I'd see that as a blessing. I sit down gingerly, pleasantly surprised that I'm okay, and turn my attention to Kate, but my mind glazes over and I'm pulled back to the Heathman – _"Well, if you were mine you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday." _He said it then, and all

I could concentrate on at the time was being his. All the warning signs were there, I was just too clueless and too enamored to notice.

Kate comes back into the living area with a bottle of red wine and washed teacups. "Here we go." She hands me a cup of wine. It won't taste as good as the Bolly.

"Ana, if he's a jerk with commitment issues, dump him. Though I don't really under- stand his commitment issues. He couldn't take his eyes off you in the marquee, watched you like a hawk. I'd say he was completely smitten, but maybe he has a funny way of showing it."

_Smitten? Christian? Funny way of showing it? _I'll say. "Kate, it's complicated. How was your evening?" I ask.

I can't talk this through with Kate without revealing too much, but one question on her day and Kate is off. It's so reassuring to sit and listen to her normal chatter. The hot news is that Ethan may be coming to live with us after their holiday. That will be fun – Ethan is a hoot. I frown. I don't think Christian will approve. _Well… tough. _He'll just have to suck it up. I have a couple of teacups of wine and decide to call it a night. It's been one very long day. Kate hugs me, and then grabs the phone to call Elliot.

I check the mean machine after I brush my teeth. There's an email from Christian.

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **You

**Date: **May 26 2011 23:14

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Dear Miss Steele

You are quite simply exquisite. The most beautiful, intelligent, witty and brave woman I have ever met. Take some Advil – this is not a request. And don't drive your Beetle again. I will know.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Oh, not drive my car again! I type out my reply.

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **Flattery

**Date: **May 26 2011 23:20

**To: **Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

Flattery will get you nowhere, but since you've been everywhere the point is moot.

I will need to drive my Beetle to a garage so I can sell it – so will not graciously accept any of your nonsense over that. Red wine is always more preferable to Advil.

Ana

PS: Caning is a HARD limit for me.

I hit send.

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Frustrating women who can't take compliments

**Date: **May 26 2011 23:26

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Dear Ms. Steele

I am not flattering you. You should go to bed. I accept your addition to the hard limits.

Don't drink too much.

Taylor will dispose of your car and get a good price for it too.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **Taylor – Is he the right man for the job?

**Date: **May 26 2011 23:40

**To: **Christian Grey

Dear Sir

I am intrigued that you are happy to risk letting your right hand man drive my car – but not some woman you fuck occasionally. How can I be sure that Taylor is the man to get me the best deal for said car? I have, in the past, probably before I met you, been known to drive a hard bargain.

Ana

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Careful!

**Date: **May 26 2011 23:44

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Dear Ms. Steele

I am assuming it is the RED WINE talking, and that you've had a very long day. Though I am tempted to drive back over there to ensure that you don't sit down for a week, rather than an evening.

Taylor is ex-army and capable of driving anything from a motorcycle to a Sherman Tank. Your car does not present a hazard to him.

Now please do not refer to yourself as 'some woman I fuck occasionally' because, quite frankly it makes me MAD, and you really wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele **Subject: **Careful yourself **Date: **May 26 2011 23:57

**To: **Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

I'm not sure I like you anyway, especially at the moment.

Ms. Steele

**From: **Christian Grey **Subject: **Careful yourself **Date: **May 27 2011 00:03

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Why don't you like me?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele **Subject: **Careful yourself **Date: **May 27 2011 00:09

**To: **Christian Grey

Because you never stay with me.

There, that's given him something to think about. I shut the machine down with a flourish I don't really feel and crawl into my bed. I switch off my sidelight and stare up at the ceil- ing. It's been one long day, one emotional wrench after another. It was heartwarming to spend some time with Ray. He looked well, and weirdly he approved of Christian. Jeez, Kate and her gargantuan mouth. Hearing Christian speak about being hungry. What the hell is that all about? God, and the car. I haven't even told Kate about the new car. What was Christian thinking?

And then this evening, he actually hit me. I've never been hit in my life. What have I gotten myself into? Very slowly, my tears, halted by Kate's arrival, begin to slide down the side of my face and into my ears. I have fallen for someone who's so emotionally shut down, I will only get hurt – deep down I know this – someone who by his own admission

is completely fucked up. _Why _is he so fucked up? It must be awful to be as affected as he is, and the thought that as a toddler he suffered some unbearable cruelty makes me cry harder. _Perhaps if he was more normal he wouldn't want you, _my subconscious contributes snidely to my musings… and in my heart of hearts I know this is true. I turn into my pil- low and the sluice gates open… and for the first time in years, I am sobbing uncontrollably into my pillow.

I am momentarily distracted from my dark night of the soul by Kate shouting.

_"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?" "Well you can't!"_

_"What the fuck have you done to her now?" "Since she's met you she cries all the time." "You can't come in here!"_

Christian bursts into my bedroom and unceremoniously switches on the overhead light, making me squint.

"Jesus, Ana," he mutters. He flicks the switch off again and is at my side in a moment. "What are you doing here?" I gasp between sobs. Crap. I can't stop crying.

He switches on the sidelight making me squint again. Kate comes and stands in the doorway.

"Do you want me to throw this asshole out?" she asks, radiating thermo-nuclear hostil-

ity.

Christian raises his eyebrows at her, no doubt surprised by her flattering epithet and

her feral antagonism. I shake my head, and she rolls her eyes at me. _Oh… I wouldn't do that near Mr. G._

"Just holler if you need me," she says more gently. "Grey – your cards are marked,"

she hisses at him. He nods at her, and she turns and pulls the door to but doesn't close it.

Christian gazes down at me, his expression grave, his face ashen. He's wearing his pinstriped jacket, and from his inside pocket, he pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to me. I think I still have his other one somewhere.

"What's going on?" he asks quietly.

"Why are you here?" I ask, ignoring his question. My tears have miraculously ceased, but I'm left with dry heaves racking my body.

"Part of my role is to look after your needs. You said you wanted me to stay, so here I am. And yet I find you like this." He blinks at me, truly bewildered. "I'm sure I'm respon- sible, but I have no idea why. Is it because I hit you?"

I pull myself up, wincing from my sore behind. I sit and face him. "Did you take some Advil?"

I shake my head. He narrows his eyes, stands, and leaves the room. I hear him talk- ing to Kate but not what they are saying. He's back a few moments later with pills and a teacup of water.

"Take these," he orders gently as he sits on my bed beside me. I do as I'm told.

"Talk to me," he whispers. "You told me you were okay. I'd never have left you if I

thought you were like this."

I stare down at my hands. What can I say that I haven't said already? I want more. I want him to stay because _he _wants to stay with me, not because I'm a blubbering mess, and I don't want him to beat me, is that so unreasonable?

"I take it that when you said you were okay, you weren't." I flush.

"I thought I was fine."

"Anastasia, you can't tell me what you think I want to hear. That's not very honest,"

he admonishes me. "How can I trust anything you've said to me?"

I peek up at him, and he's frowning, a bleak look in his eye. He runs both hands through his hair.

"How did you feel while I was hitting you and after?" "I didn't like it. I'd rather you didn't do it again." "You weren't meant to like it."

"Why do you like it?" I stare up at him. My question surprises him.

"You really want to know?"

"Oh, trust me, I'm fascinated." And I can't quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice. He narrows his eyes again.

"Careful," he warns. I blanch.

"Are you going to hit me again?" I challenge. "No, not tonight."

Phew... my subconscious and I both breathe a silent sigh of relief. "So," I prompt.

"I like the control it brings me, Anastasia. I want you to behave in a particular way, and if you don't, I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I've wanted to spank you since you asked me if I was gay."

I flush at the memory_. Jeez, I wanted to spank myself after that question. _So Katherine Kavanagh is responsible for all this, and if she'd gone to that interview and asked her gay question, she'd be sitting here with the sore ass. I don't like that thought. How confusing is this?

"So you don't like the way I am." He stares at me, bewildered again.

"I think you're lovely the way you are." "So why are you trying to change me?"

"I don't want to change you. I'd like you to be courteous and to follow the set of rules

I've given you and not defy me. Simple," he says. "But you want to punish me?"

"Yes I do."

"That's what I don't understand."

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair again.

"It's the way I'm made, Anastasia. I need to control you. I need you to behave in a certain way, and if you don't – I love to watch your beautiful alabaster skin pink and warm up under my hands. It turns me on."

Holy shit. Now we're getting somewhere.

"So it's not the pain you're putting me through?" He swallows.

"A bit, to see if you can take it, but that's not the whole reason. It's the fact that you are mine to do with as I see fit – ultimate control over someone else. And it turns me on. Big time, Anastasia. Look, I'm not explaining myself very well… I've never had to before. I've not really thought about this in any great depth. I've always been with like-minded people," he shrugs apologetically. "And you still haven't answered my question – how did you feel afterwards?"

"Confused."

"You were sexually aroused by it, Anastasia," he closes his eyes briefly, and when he re-opens them and gazes at me, they are smoldering smoky embers.

His expression pulls at that dark part of me, buried in the depths of my belly – my libido, woken and tamed by him, but even now, insatiable.

"Don't look at me like that," he murmurs. I frown. _Jeez what have I done now?_

"I don't have any condoms, Anastasia, and you know, you're upset. Contrary to what your roommate believes, I'm not a priapic monster. So, you felt confused?"

I squirm under his intense gaze.

"You have no problem being honest with me in print. Your emails always tell me exactly how you feel. Why can't you do that in conversation? Do I intimidate you that much?"

I pick at an imaginary spot on my mother's blue and cream quilt.

"You beguile me, Christian. Completely overwhelm me. I feel like Icarus flying too close to the Sun," I whisper.

He gasps.

"Well, I think you've got that the wrong way around," he whispers. "What?"

"Oh, Anastasia, you've bewitched me. Isn't it obvious?"

No, not to me. _Bewitched… _my inner goddess is staring open-mouthed. Even she doesn't believe this.

"You've still not answered my question. Write me an email, please. But right now, I'd really like to sleep. Can I stay?"

"Do you want to stay?" I can't hide the hope in my voice. "You wanted me here."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'll write you an email," he mutters petulantly.

Standing, he empties his jeans pockets of BlackBerry, keys, wallet, and money. Holy cow, men carry a lot of crap in their pockets. He strips off his watch, his shoes, socks, and jeans and places his jacket over my chair. He walks round to the other side of the bed and slides in.

"Lie down," he orders.

I slip slowly under the covers, wincing slightly, staring at him. Jeez… he's staying. I

think I'm numb with elated shock. He leans up on one elbow staring down at me.

"If you are going to cry. Cry in front of me. I need to know." "Do you want me to cry?"

"Not particularly. I just want to know how you're feeling. I don't want you slipping through my fingers. Switch the light off. It's late, and we both have to work tomorrow."

_So here… and still so bossy_, but I can't complain, he's in my bed. I don't quite un- derstand why… maybe I should weep more often in front of him. I switch off the bedside light.

"Lie on your side, facing away from me," he murmurs in the darkness.

I roll my eyes in the full knowledge that he cannot see me, but I do as I'm told. Gin- gerly, he moves over and puts his arms around me and pulls me to his chest_… oh my._

"Sleep, baby," he whispers, and I feel his nose in my hair as he inhales deeply.

Holy cow. Christian Grey is sleeping with me, and in the comfort and solace of his arms, I drift into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

The candle flame is too hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the heat. Soft gossamer wings flutter to and fro in the dark, sprin- kling dusty scales in the circle of light. I'm struggling to resist, but I'm drawn. And then it's so bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavors to stay airborne. I am so warm. The heat… it's stifling, overpowering. It wakes me.

I open my eyes, and I'm draped in Christian Grey. He's wrapped around me like a vic- tory flag. He's fast asleep with his head on my chest, his arm over me, holding me close, one of his legs thrown over and hooked around both of mine. He's suffocating me with his body heat, and he's heavy. I take a moment to absorb that he's still in my bed and fast asleep, and it's light outside – morning. He has spent the whole night with me.

My right arm is stretched, no doubt in search of a cool spot, and as I process the fact that he's still with me, the thought occurs that I can touch him. He's asleep. Tentatively, I lift my hand and run the tips of my fingers down his back. Deep in his throat, I hear a faint distressed groan, and he stirs. He nuzzles my chest, inhaling deeply as he wakes. Sleepy, blinking gray eyes meet mine beneath his tousled mop of hair.

"Good morning," he mumbles and frowns. "Jesus, even in my sleep I'm drawn to you." He moves slowly, unpeeling his limbs from me as he gets his bearings. I become

aware of his erection against my hip. He notices my wide-eyed reaction, and he smiles a slow sexy smile.

"Hmm… this has possibilities, but I think we should wait until Sunday." He leans down and nuzzles my ear with his nose.

I flush, but then I feel seven shades of scarlet from his heat. "You're very hot," I murmur.

"You're not so bad yourself," he murmurs and presses himself against me, sugges- tively.

I flush some more. _That's not what I meant. _He props himself up on his elbow gazing down at me, amused. He bends, and to my surprise, plants a gentle kiss on my lips.

"Sleep well?" he asks.

I nod, staring up at him, and I realize that I've slept very well except maybe for the last half-hour when I was too hot.

"So did I." He frowns. "Yes, really well." He raises his eyebrows in confused surprise. "What's the time?"

I glance at my alarm. "It's 7:30."

"7:30… shit." He scrambles out of bed and drags on his jeans.

It is my turn to look amused as I sit up. Christian Grey is late and flustered. This is something I have never seen before. I belatedly realize that my behind is no longer sore.

"You are such a bad influence on me. I have a meeting. I have to go – I have to be in

Portland at eight. Are you smirking at me?" "Yes."

He grins.

"I'm late. I don't do late. Another first, Miss Steele." He pulls on his jacket and then bends down and grasps my head, his hands on either side.

"Sunday," he says, and the word is pregnant with an unspoken promise. Everything deep in my body uncurls and then clenches in delicious anticipation, the feeling is exqui- site.

Holy hell, if my mind could just keep up with my body. He leans forward and kisses me quickly. He grabs his stuff from my side table and his shoes – which he doesn't put on. "Taylor will come and sort your Beetle. I was serious. Don't drive it. I'll see you at

my place on Sunday. I'll email you a time." And like a whirlwind, he's gone_._

_Oh my, _Christian Grey spent the night with me, and I feel rested. And there was no sex, only cuddling. He told me he never slept with anyone – but he's slept three times with me. I grin and slowly climb out of my bed. I feel more optimistic than I have for the last day or so. I head for the kitchen, needing a cup of tea.

After breakfast, I shower and dress quickly for my last day at Clayton's. It is the end of an era – goodbye to Mr. & Mrs. Clayton, WSU, Vancouver, the apartment, my Beetle. I glance at the mean machine – it's only 7:52. I have time.

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **Assault and Battery: The after-effects

**Date: **May 27 2011 08:05

**To: **Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

You wanted to know why I felt confused after you – which euphemism should we ap-

ply - spanked, punished, beat, assaulted me. Well during the whole alarming process I felt demeaned, debased and abused. And much to my mortification, you're right, I was aroused, and that was unexpected. As you are well aware, all things sexual are new to me – I only wish I was more experienced and therefore more prepared. I was shocked to feel aroused.

What really worried me was how I felt afterwards. And that's more difficult to articulate. I was happy that you were happy. I felt relieved that it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. And when I was lying in your arms, I felt – sated. But I feel very uncomfort- able, guilty even, feeling that way. It doesn't sit well with me, and I'm confused as a result. Does that answer your question?

I hope the world of Mergers and Acquisitions is as stimulating as ever… and that you weren't too late.

Thank you for staying with me. Ana

**From: **Christian Grey **Subject: **Free Your Mind **Date: **May 27 2011 08:24

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Interesting… if slightly overstated title heading Miss Steele. To answer your points:

• I'll go with spanking – as that's what it was.

• So you felt demeaned, debased, abused & assaulted – how very Tess Durbey- field of you. I believe it was you who decided on the debasement if I remember correctly. Do you really feel like this or do you think you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. If that is how you feel, do you think you could just try and embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That's what a submis- sive would do.

• I am grateful for your inexperience. I value it, and I'm only beginning to under- stand what it means. Simply put… it means that you are mine in every way.

• Yes, you were aroused, which in turn was very arousing, there's nothing wrong with that.

• Happy does not even begin to cover how I felt. Ecstatic joy comes close.

• Punishment spanking hurts far more than sensual spanking – so that's about as hard as it gets, unless of course you commit some major transgression, in which case I'll use some implement to punish you with. My hand was very sore. But I like that.

• I felt sated too - more so than you could ever know.

• Don't waste your energy on guilt, feelings of wrongdoing etc. We are consent- ing adults and what we do behind closed doors is between ourselves. You need to free your mind and listen to your body.

• The world of M&A is not nearly as stimulating as you are Miss Steele.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Holy crap… _mine in every way. _My breath hitches.

**From: **Anastasia Steele **Subject: **Consenting Adults! **Date: **May 27 2011 08:26

**To: **Christian Grey

Aren't you in a meeting?

I'm very glad your hand was sore.

And if I listened to my body, I'd be in Alaska by now. Ana

PS: I will think about embracing these feelings.

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **You Didn't Call the Cops

**Date: **May 27 2011 08:35

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele

I am in a meeting discussing the futures market if you're really interested. For the record - you stood beside me knowing what I was going to do. You didn't at any time ask me to stop – you didn't use either safe word. You are an adult – you have choices.

Quite frankly, I'm looking forward to the next time my palm is ringing with pain. You're obviously not listening to the right part of your body.

Alaska is very cold and no place to run. I would find you. I can track your cell phone – remember?

Go to work.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I scowl at the screen. He's right of course. It's my choice. _Hmm. _Is he serious about com- ing to find me, should I decide to escape for a while? My mind flits briefly to my mother's offer. I hit reply.

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **Stalker

**Date: **May 27 2011 08:36

**To: **Christian Grey

Have you sought therapy for your stalker tendencies? Ana

**From: **Christian Grey **Subject: **Stalker? Me? **Date: **May 27 2011 08:38

**To: **Anastasia Steele

I pay the eminent Dr. Flynn a small fortune with regard to my stalker and other tendencies. Go to work.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele **Subject: **Expensive Charlatans **Date: **May 27 2011 08:40

**To: **Christian Grey

May I humbly suggest you seek a second opinion? I am not sure that Dr. Flynn is very effective.

Miss Steele

**From: **Christian Grey **Subject: **Second Opinions **Date: **May 27 2011 08:43

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Not that it's any of your business, humble or otherwise, but Dr. Flynn is the second opinion.

You will have to speed, in your new car, putting yourself at unnecessary risk – I think that's against the rules.

GO TO WORK.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele **Subject: **SHOUTY CAPITALS **Date: **May 27 2011 08:47

**To: **Christian Grey

As the object of your stalker tendencies – I think it is my business actually. I haven't signed yet. So rules schmules. And I don't start until 9:30.

Miss Steele

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Descriptive Linguistics

**Date: **May 27 2011 08:49

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Schmules? Not sure where that appears in Webster's Dictionary

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele **Subject: **Descriptive Linguistics **Date: **May 27 2011 08:52

**To: **Christian Grey

It's between control freak and stalker.

And descriptive linguistics is a hard limit for me. Will you stop bothering me now?

I'd like to go to work in my new car. Ana

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Challenging but amusing Young Women

**Date: **May 27 2011 08:56

**To: **Anastasia Steele

My palm is twitching. Drive safely Miss Steele.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

The Audi is a joy to drive. It has power steering. Wanda, my Beetle, has no power in it at all – anywhere, so my daily workout, which was driving my Beetle, will cease. Oh, but I will have a personal trainer to contend with, according to Christian's rules. I frown. I hate exercising.

While I am driving, I try and analyze our email exchange. He's a patronizing son-of- a-bitch sometimes. And then I think of Grace and I feel guilty. But of course, she wasn't his birth mother. _Hmm _that's a whole world of unknown pain. Well, patronizing son-of- a-bitch works well then. Yes. I'm an adult, thank you for reminding me, Christian Grey, and it is my choice. The problem is, I just want Christian, not all his… baggage – and right now he has a 747 hold's worth of baggage. Could I just lie back and embrace it? Like a submissive? I've said I'd try. It's an awfully big ask.

I pull into the parking lot at Clayton's. As I make my way in, I can hardly believe it's my last day. Fortunately, the store is busy and time passes quickly. At lunchtime, Mr. Clayton summons me from the stockroom. He's standing beside a motorcycle courier.

"Miss Steele?" the courier asks. I frown questioningly at Mr. Clayton, who shrugs, as puzzled as me. My heart sinks. What has Christian sent me now? I sign for the small package and open it straight away. It's a BlackBerry. My heart sinks further. I switch it on.

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **BlackBerry ON LOAN

**Date: **May 27 2011 11:15

**To: **Anastasia Steele

I need to be able to contact you at all times, and since this is your most honest form of communication, I figured you needed a BlackBerry.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele

**Subject: **Consumerism Gone Mad

**Date: **May 27 2011 13:22

**To: **Christian Grey

I think you need to call Dr. Flynn right now. Your stalker tendencies are running wild.

I am at work. I will email you when I get home. Thank you for yet another gadget.

I wasn't wrong when I said you were the ultimate consumer. Why do you do this?

Ana

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Sagacity from one so young

**Date: **May 27 2011 13:24

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Fair point-well made, as ever Miss Steele. Dr. Flynn is on vacation.

And I do this because I can.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I put the thing in my back pocket, hating it already. Emailing Christian is addictive, but I am supposed to be working. It buzzes once against my behind… how apt, I think ironi- cally, but summoning all my willpower, I ignore it.

At four, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton gather all the other employees in the shop, and during a hair-curlingly embarrassing speech, present me with a check for three hundred dollars. In that moment, three weeks of – exams, graduation, intense, fucked-up billionaires, de-

flowering, hard & soft limits, playrooms with no consoles, helicopter rides – and the fact that I will move tomorrow, all well up inside me. Amazingly, I hold myself together. My subconscious is in awe. I hug the Claytons hard. They have been kind and generous em- ployers, and I will miss them.

Kate is climbing out of her car when I arrive home.

"What's that?" she says accusingly, pointing at the Audi. I can't resist.

"It's a car," I quip. She narrows her eyes, and for a brief moment, I wonder if she's go- ing to put me across her knee too. "My graduation present." I try and act nonchalant. _Yes, I get expensive cars given to me everyday. _Her mouth drops open.

"Generous, over-the-top bastard, isn't he?" I nod.

"I did try not to accept it, but frankly, it's just not worth the fight." Kate purses her lips.

"No wonder you're so overwhelmed. I did note that he stayed." "Yeah." I smile wistfully.

"Shall we finish packing?"

I nod and follow her inside. I check the email from Christian.

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Sunday

**Date: **May 27 2011 13:40

**To: **Anastasia Steele

Shall I see you at 1 p.m. Sunday?

The doctor will be at Escala to see you at 1:30. I'm leaving for Seattle now.

I hope your move goes well, and I look forward to Sunday.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Jeez, he could be discussing the weather. I decide to email him once we've finished pack- ing, he can be such fun one minute, and then he can be so formal and stuffy. It's difficult to keep up. Honestly, it's like an email to an employee. I roll my eyes at it defiantly and join Kate to pack.

Kate and I are in the kitchen when there's a knock at the door. Taylor stands on the porch, looking immaculate in his suit. I notice the trace of ex-army in his buzz cut, trim physique, and his cool stare.

"Miss Steele," he says. "I've come for your car."

"Oh yes, of course. Come in, I'll fetch the keys."

Surely this is above and beyond the call of duty. I wonder again at Taylor's job descrip- tion. I hand him the keys, and we walk in an uncomfortable silence for me - toward the light blue Beetle. I open the door and remove the flashlight from the glove box. That's it. I have nothing else that's personal in the Wanda. _Goodby,, Wanda. Thank you. _I caress her roof as I close the passenger door.

"How long have you worked for Mr. Grey?" I ask. "Four years, Miss Steele."

Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to bombard him with questions. What this man must know about Christian, all his secrets. But then he's probably signed an NDA. I look nervously at him. He has the same taciturn expression as Ray, and I warm to him.

"He's a good man, Miss Steele," he says, and he smiles slightly. With that, he gives me a little nod, climbs into my car, and drives away.

Apartment, Beetle, Claytons – it's all change now. I shake my head as I wander back inside. And the biggest change of all is Christian Grey. Taylor thinks he's a _good man. _Can I believe him?

José joins us with a Chinese take-out at eight. We're done. We're packed and ready to go. He brings several bottles of beer, and Kate and I sit on the couch while he's cross- legged on the floor between us. We watch crap TV, drink beer, and as the evening wears on, we fondly and loudly reminisce as the beer takes effect. It's been a good four years.

The atmosphere between José and I has returned to normal, the attempted kiss forgot- ten. Well, it's been swept under the rug that my inner goddess is lying on, eating grapes and tapping her fingers, waiting not so patiently for Sunday. There's a knock on the door, and my heart leaps into my throat. Is it?

Kate answers the door and is nearly knocked off her feet by Elliot. He seizes her in a Hollywood-style clinch that moves quickly into a European art house embrace. _Honestly… get a room. _José and I stare at each other. I'm appalled at their lack of modesty.

"Shall we walk down to the bar?" I ask José, who nods frantically. We are too uncom- fortable with the unrestrained sexing unfolding in front of us. Kate looks up at me, flushed and bright-eyed.

"José and I are going for a quick drink." I roll my eyes at her. Ha! I can still roll my eyes in my own time.

"Okay," she grins.

"Hi Elliot, bye Elliot."

He winks a big blue eye at me, and José and I are out of the door, giggling like teenag-

ers.

As we stroll down to the bar, I put my arm through José's. God, he's so uncomplicated

- I hadn't really appreciated that before.

"You'll still come to the opening of my show, won't you?" "Of course, José, when is it?"

"June 9."

"What day is that?" I suddenly panic. "It's a Thursday."

"Yeah I should make that… and you will visit us in Seattle?" "Try and stop me." He grins.

It's late when I arrive back from the bar. Kate and Elliot are nowhere to be seen but boy can they be heard. _Holy shit. _I hope I'm not that loud. I know Christian isn't. I flush at the thought and escape to my room. After a brief not-at-all-awkward-thank-goodness hug, José has gone. I don't know when I'll see him again, probably his photographic show, and once again, I'm blown away that he finally has an exhibition. I shall miss him and his boy- ish charm. I couldn't bring myself to tell him about the Beetle, I know he'll freak when he finds out, and I can only deal with one man at a time freaking out at me. Once in my room, I check the mean machine, and of course, there's an email from Christian.

**From: **Christian Grey **Subject: **Where Are You? **Date: **May 27 2011 22:14

**To: **Anastasia Steele

_'I am at work. I will email you when I get home.'_

Are you still at work or have you packed your phone, BlackBerry and MacBook? Call me, or I may be forced to call Elliot.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Crap… _José… shit._

I grab my phone. Five missed calls and one voice message. Tentatively, I listen to the message. It's Christian.

_'I think you need to learn to manage my expectations. I am not a patient man. If you say you are going to contact me when you finish work, then you should have the decency to do so. Otherwise, I worry, and it's not an emotion I'm familiar with, and I don't tolerate it very well. Call me.'_

Double crap. Will he ever give me a break? I scowl at the phone. He is suffocating me. With a deep dread uncurling in my stomach, I scroll down to his number and press dial. My heart is in my mouth as I wait for him to answer. He'd probably like to beat seven shades of shit out of me_. _The thought is depressing.

"Hi," he says softly, and his response knocks me off balance because I am expecting his anger, but if anything, he sounds relieved.

"Hi," I murmur.

"I was worried about you."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't reply, but I'm fine." He pauses for a beat.

"Did you have a pleasant evening?" He is crisply polite.

"Yes. We finished packing and Kate and I shared a Chinese take-out with José." I close my eyes tightly as I say José's name. Christian says nothing.

"How about you?" I ask to fill the sudden deafening chasm of silence. I will not let him guilt me out about José.

Eventually, he sighs.

"I went to a fundraising dinner. It was deathly dull. I left as soon as I could."

He sounds so sad and resigned. My heart clenches. I picture him all those nights ago sat at the piano in his huge living room and the unbearable bittersweet melancholy of the music he was playing.

"I wish you were here," I whisper, because I have an urge to hold him. Soothe him. Even though he won't let me. I want his proximity.

"Do you?" he murmurs blandly. _Holy mackerel. _This doesn't sound like him, and my scalp prickles with dawning apprehension.

"Yes," I breathe. After an eternity, he sighs. "I'll see you Sunday?"

"Yes, Sunday," I murmur, and a thrill courses through my body. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sir."

My address catches him unawares, I can tell by his sharp intake of breath.

"Good luck with your move tomorrow, Anastasia." His voice is soft. And we're both hanging on the phone like teenagers, neither wanting to hang up.

"You hang up," I whisper. Finally, I sense his smile. "No, you hang up." And I know he's grinning.

"I don't want to." "Neither do I."

"Were you very angry with me?" "Yes."

"Are you still?" "No."

"So you're not going to punish me?"

"No. I'm an in-the-moment kind of guy." "I've noticed."

"You can hang up now, Miss Steele." "Do you really want me to, Sir?"

"Go to bed, Anastasia." "Yes, Sir."

We both stay on the line.

"Do you ever think you'll be able to do what you're told?" He's amused and exasper- ated at once.

"Maybe. We'll see after Sunday." And I press 'end' on the phone.

Elliot stands and admires his handiwork. He has re-plugged our TV into the satellite sys- tem in our Pike Place Market apartment. Kate and I flop on to the couch giggling, im- pressed by his prowess with a power drill. The flat screen looks odd against the brickwork of the converted warehouse, but no doubt I will get used to it.

"See, baby, easy." He grins a wide white-toothed smile at Kate, and she almost literally dissolves into the couch.

I roll my eyes at the pair of them.

"I'd love to stay, baby, but my sister is back from Paris. It's a compulsory family din- ner tonight."

"Can you come by after?" Kate asks tentatively, all soft and un-Katelike.

I stand and make my way over to the kitchen area on the pretense of unpacking one of the crates. They are going to get icky.

"I'll see if I can escape," he promises. "I'll come down with you." Kate smiles. "Laters, Ana." Elliot grins.

"Bye, Elliot. Say hi to Christian from me." "Just hi?" His eyebrows shoot up suggestively.

"Yes." I flush. He winks at me, and I go crimson as he follows Kate out of the apart- ment.

Elliot is adorable and so different from Christian. He's warm, open, physical, very physical, too physical, with Kate. They can barely keep their hands off each other – to be honest it's embarrassing - and I am pea-green with envy.

Kate returns about twenty minutes later with pizza, and we sit, surrounded by crates, in our new open space, eating straight from the box. Kate's dad has done us proud. The apartment is not large, but it's big enough, three bedrooms and a large living space that looks out on to Pike Place Market itself. It's all solid wood floors and red brick, and the kitchen tops are smooth concrete, very utilitarian, very now. We both love that we will be in the heart of the city.

At eight the entry-phone buzzes. Kate leaps up - and my heart leaps into my mouth. "Delivery, Miss Steele, Miss Kavanagh." Disappointment flows freely and unexpect-

edly through my veins. It's not Christian. "Second floor, apartment two."

Kate buzzes the delivery boy in. His mouth falls open when he sees Kate, all tight jeans, t-shirt, hair piled high with escaping tendrils. She has that effect on men. He holds a bottle of champagne with a helicopter-shaped balloon attached. She gives him a dazzling smile to send him on his way and proceeds to read the card out to me.

_Ladies, Good luck in your new home, Christian Grey._

Kate shakes her head in disapproval.

"Why can't he just write 'from Christian'? And what's with the weird helicopter bal- loon?"

"Charlie Tango." "What?"

"Christian flew me to Seattle in his helicopter." I shrug.

Kate stares at me open mouthed. I have to say – I love these occasions – Katherine Ka- vanagh, silent and floored, they are so rare. I take a brief and luxurious moment to enjoy it.

"Yep, he has a helicopter, which he flew himself," I state proudly.

"Of course the obscenely rich bastard has a helicopter. Why didn't you tell me?" Kate looks accusingly at me, but she's smiling, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I've had a lot on my mind lately." She frowns.

"Are you going to be okay while I'm away?"

"Of course." I answer reassuringly. _New city, no job… nut-job boyfriend._

"Did you give him our address?

"No, but stalking is one of his specialties." I muse, matter-of-fact. Kate's brow knits further.

"Somehow I'm not surprised. He worries me, Ana. At least it's a good champagne and it's chilled."

Of course, only Christian would send chilled champagne or get his secretary to do it… or maybe Taylor. We open it there and then and find our teacups - they were the last items to be packed.

"Bollinger Grande Année Rosé 1999, an excellent vintage." I grin at Kate, and we clink teacups.

I wake early to a gray Sunday morning after a surprisingly refreshing night's sleep and lie awake staring at my crates. _You should really be unpacking these, _my subconscious nags, pursing her harpy lips together. _No… today's the day. _My inner goddess is beside herself, hopping from foot to foot. Anticipation hangs heavy and portentous over my head like a dark tropical storm cloud. Butterflies flood my belly – as well as a darker, carnal, capti- vating ache as I try to imagine what he will do to me… and of course, I have to sign that damned contract or do I? I hear the ping of incoming mail from the mean machine on the floor beside my bed.

**From: **Christian Grey **Subject: **My Life in Numbers **Date: **May 29 2011 08:04

**To: **Anastasia Steele

If you drive you'll need this access code for the underground garage at Escala: 146963

Park in bay 5 – it's one of mine. Code for the elevator: 1880

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Anastasia Steele **Subject: **An excellent Vintage **Date: **May 29 2011 08:08

**To: **Christian Grey

Yes Sir. Understood.

Thank you for the champagne and the blow-up Charlie Tango, which is now tied to my bed.

Ana

**From: **Christian Grey

**Subject: **Envy

**Date: **May 29 2011 08:11

**To: **Anastasia Steele

You're welcome. Don't be late.

Lucky Charlie Tango.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I roll my eyes at his bossiness, but his last line makes me smile. I head for the bathroom, wondering if Elliot made it back last night and trying hard to rein in my nerves.

I can drive the Audi in high-heels! At 12:55 p.m. precisely, I pull into the garage at Escala and park in bay five. How many bays does he own? The Audi SUV is there, the R8, and two smaller Audi SUVs… _hmm. _I check my seldom-worn mascara in the light up vanity mirror on my sunshield. Didn't have one of these in the Beetle.

_Go girl! _My inner goddess has her pom poms in hand - she's in cheerleading mode. In the infinity mirrors of the elevator, I check out my plum dress, well – Kate's plum dress. The last time I wore this, he wanted to peel it off me. My body clenches at the thought. Oh my, the feeling is just exquisite, and I catch my breath. I'm wearing the underwear that Taylor bought for me. I flush at the thought of his buzz-cut roaming the aisles of Agent

Provocateur or wherever he bought it. The doors open, and I'm facing the foyer of apart- ment number one.

Taylor stands at the double doors as I step out of the elevator. "Good afternoon, Miss Steele," he says.

"Oh please call me, Ana." "Ana," he smiles.

"Mr. Grey is expecting you."

_I bet he is._

Christian is seated on his living room couch reading the Sunday papers. He glances up as Taylor directs me into the living area. The room is exactly as I remember it – it's been a whole week since I've been here – but it feels so much longer. Christian looks cool and calm – actually, he looks heavenly. He's in a loose white linen shirt and jeans, no shoes or socks. His hair is tousled and unkempt, and his gray eyes twinkle wickedly at me. He is jaw-droppingly handsome. He rises and strolls towards me, an amused appraising smile on his beautiful sculptured lips.

I stand immobilized at the entrance of the room, paralyzed by his beauty and the sweet anticipation of what's to come. The familiar charge between us is there, sparking slowly in my belly, drawing me to him.

"Hmm… that dress," he murmurs approvingly as he gazes down at me. "Welcome back, Miss Steele," he whispers, and clasping my chin, he leans down and proffers a gentle light kiss on my lips. The touch of his lips to mine reverberates throughout my body. My breath hitches.

"Hi," I whisper as I flush.

"You're on time. I like punctual. Come." He takes my hand and leads me to the couch. "I wanted to show you something," he says as we sit. He hands me the Seattle Times. On page eight, there's a photograph of the two of us together at the graduation ceremony. _Holy crap. _I'm in the paper. I check the caption.

_Christian Grey and friend at the graduation ceremony at WSU Vancouver._

I laugh.

"So I'm your 'friend' now."

"So it would appear. And it's in the newspaper, so it must be true." He smirks.

Sitting beside me, his whole body is turned toward me, one of his legs tucked under the other. Reaching over, he tucks my hair behind my ear with his long index finger. My body comes alive at his touch, waiting and needful.

"So, Anastasia, you have a much better idea of what I'm about since you were last here."

"Yes." _Where's he going with this?_

"And yet you've returned."

I nod shyly, and his gray eyes blaze. He shakes his head slightly as if he's struggling with the idea.

"Have you eaten?" he asks out of the blue.

_Shit._

"No."

"Are you hungry?" He's really trying not to look annoyed.

"Not for food," I whisper, and his nostrils flare slightly in reaction. He leans forward and whispers in my ear.

"You are as eager as ever, Miss Steele, and just to let you into a little secret, so am I. But Dr. Greene is due here shortly." He sits up. "I wish you'd eat," he scolds me mildly. My heated blood cools. Holy cow – the doctor. I'd forgotten.

"What can you tell me about Dr. Greene?" I ask to distract us both. "She's the best Ob/Gyn in Seattle. What more can I say?" He shrugs.

"I thought I was seeing your doctor, and don't tell me you're really a woman, because

I won't believe you."

He gives me a don't-be-ridiculous look.

"I think it's more appropriate that you see a specialist. Don't you?" he says mildly.

I nod. Holy Moses, if she's the best Ob/Gyn, he's scheduled her to see me on a Sunday

– at lunchtime! I cannot begin to imagine how much that costs. Christian frowns suddenly as if recalling something unpleasant.

"Anastasia, my mother would like you to come to dinner this evening. I believe Elliot is asking Kate too. I don't know how you feel about that. It will be odd for me to introduce you to my family."

_Odd? Why?_

"Are you ashamed of me?" I can't keep the wounded hurt out of my voice. "Of course not." He rolls his eyes at me.

"Why is it odd?"

"Because I've never done it before."

"Why are you allowed to roll your eyes, and I'm not?" He blinks at me.

"I wasn't aware that I was."

"Neither am I usually," I snap at him.

Christian glares at me, speechless. Taylor appears at the doorway. "Dr. Greene is here, Sir."

"Show her up to Miss Steele's room."

_Miss Steele's room!_

"Ready for some contraception?" he asks as he stands and holds out his hand to me. "You're not going to come as well are you?" I gasp, shocked.

He laughs.

"I'd pay very good money to watch, believe me, Anastasia, but I don't think the good doctor would approve."

I take his hand, and he pulls me up into his arms and kisses me deeply. I clutch on to his arms, taken by surprise. His hand is in my hair holding my head, and he pulls me against him, his forehead against mine.

"I'm so glad you're here," he whispers. "I can't wait to get you naked."

Chapter Eighteen

Dr. Greene is tall, blond, and immaculate, dressed in a royal blue suit. I'm reminded of the women who work in Christian's office. She's like an identikit model – another Stepford blonde. Her long hair is swept up in an elegant chignon. She must be in her early forties.

"Mr. Grey." She shakes Christian's outstretched hand. "Thank you for coming at such short notice," Christian says.

"Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele." She smiles, her eyes cool and assessing.

We shake hands, and I know she's one of those women who doesn't tolerate fools gladly. Like Kate. I like her immediately. She gives Christian a pointed stare, and after an awkward beat, he takes his cue.

"I'll be downstairs," he mutters, and he leaves what will be my bedroom.

"Well Miss Steele. Mr. Grey is paying me a small fortune to attend to you. What can

I do for you?"

After a thorough examination and lengthy discussion, Dr. Greene and I decide on the mini pill. She writes me a pre-paid prescription and instructs me to pick them up tomorrow. I love her no-nonsense attitude – she has lectured me until she's as blue as her dress about taking it at the same time every day. And I can tell she's burning with curiosity about my so-called relationship with Mr. Grey. I don't give her any details. Somehow I don't think

she'd look so calm and collected if she'd seen his Red Room of Pain. I flush as we pass its closed door and head back downstairs to the art gallery that is Christian's living room.

Christian is reading, seated on his couch. A breathtaking aria is playing on the music system, swirling round him, cocooning him, filling the room with a sweet, soulful song. For a moment, he looks serene. He turns and glances at us when we enter and smiles warmly at me.

"Are you done?" he asks as if he's genuinely interested. He points the remote at a sleek white box beneath the fireplace that houses his iPod, and the exquisite melody fades but continues in the background. Standing, he strolls towards us.

"Yes, Mr. Grey. Look after her; she's a beautiful, bright young woman."

Christian is taken aback – as am I. What an inappropriate thing for a doctor to say. Is she giving him some kind of not so subtle warning? Christian recovers himself.

"I fully intend to," he mutters, bemused. Gazing at him, I shrug, embarrassed.

"I'll send you my bill," she says crisply as she shakes his hand.

"Good day, and good luck to you, Ana." She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she does when we shake hands.

Taylor appears from nowhere to escort her through the double doors and out to the elevator. How does he do that? Where does he lurk?

"How was that?" Christian asks.

"Fine, thank you. She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks."

Christian's mouth drops open in shock, and I cannot keep a straight face any longer and grin at him like an idiot.

"Gotcha!"

He narrows his eyes, and I immediately stop laughing. In fact, he looks rather forbid- ding. _Oh shit. _My subconscious quails in the corner as all the blood drains from my face, and I imagine him putting me across his knee again.

"Gotcha!" he says and smirks. He grabs me around my waist and pulls me up against him. "You are incorrigible, Miss Steele," he murmurs, staring down into my eyes as he weaves his fingers into my hair, holding me firmly in place. He kisses me, hard, and I cling on to his muscular arms for support.

"As much as I'd like to take you here, now, you need to eat and so do I. I don't want you passing out on me later," he murmurs against my lips.

"Is that all you want me for – my body?" I whisper. "That and your smart mouth," he breathes.

He kisses me again passionately, and then abruptly releases me, taking my hand and leading me to the kitchen. I am reeling. One minute we're joking and the next… I fan my heated face. He's just sex on legs, and now I have to recover my equilibrium and eat something. The aria is still playing in the background.

"What's the music?"

"Villa Lobos, an aria from Bachianas Brasileiras. Good, isn't it?" "Yes," I murmur in total agreement.

The breakfast bar is laid for two; Christian takes a salad bowl from the fridge.

"Chicken caesar salad okay with you?" _Oh thank heavens, nothing too heavy. _"Yes, fine, thank you."

I watch as he moves gracefully through his kitchen. He's so at ease with his body on one level, but then he doesn't like to be touched… so maybe deep down he isn't. No man is an island, I muse – except perhaps Christian Grey.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, pulling me from my reverie. I flush. "I was just watching the way you move."

He raises an eyebrow, amused. "And?" he says dryly.

I flush some more. "You're very graceful."

"Why thank you, Miss Steele," he murmurs. He sits down beside me, holding a bottle of wine. "Chablis?"

"Please."

"Help yourself to salad," he says, his voice soft. "Tell me - what method did you opt for?"

I am momentarily thrown by his question, when I realize he's talking about Dr. Greene's visit.

"Mini pill." He frowns.

"And will you remember to take it regularly, at the right time, every day?"

_Jeez… of course I will. _How does he know? I blush at the thought, probably from one or more of the fifteen.

"I'm sure you'll remind me," I murmur dryly. He glances at me with amused condescension.

"I'll put an alarm on my calendar." He smirks. "Eat."

The chicken caesar is delicious. To my surprise, I'm famished, and for the first time since I've been with him, I finish my meal before he does. The wine is crisp, clean, and fruity.

"Eager as ever, Miss Steele?" he smiles down at my empty plate. I look at him from beneath my lashes.

"Yes," I whisper.

His breath hitches. And as he stares down at me, I feel the atmosphere between us slowly shift, evolve… charge. His look goes from dark to smoldering, taking me with him. He stands, closing the distance between us, and tugs me off my bar stool into his arms.

"Do you want to do this?" he breathes, looking down at me intently. "I haven't signed anything."

"I know – but I'm breaking all the rules these days." "Are you going to hit me?"

"Yes, but it won't be to hurt you. I don't want to punish you right now. If you'd caught me yesterday evening, well, that would have been a different story."

Holy cow. He _wants _to hurt me… how do I deal with this? I can't hide the horror on my face.

"Don't let anyone try and convince you otherwise, Anastasia. One of the reasons people like me do this is because we either like to give or receive pain. It's very simple. You don't, so I spent a great deal of time yesterday thinking about that."

He pulls me against him, and his erection presses into my belly. I should run, but I

can't. I'm drawn to him on some deep, elemental level, that I can't begin to understand. "Did you reach any conclusions?" I whisper.

"No, and right now, I just want to tie you up and fuck you senseless. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes," I breathe as everything in my body tightens at once… _wow._

"Good. Come." He takes my hand and, leaving all the dirty dishes on the breakfast bar, and we head upstairs.

My heart starts pounding. This is it. I'm really going to do this. My inner goddess is spinning like a world-class ballerina, pirouette after pirouette. He opens the door to his playroom, standing back for me to walk through, and I am once more in the Red Room of Pain.

It's the same, the smell of leather, citrus, polish and dark wood, all very sensual. My blood is running heated and scared through my system – adrenaline mixed with lust and longing. It's a heady, potent cocktail. Christian's stance has changed completely, subtly al- tered, harder and meaner. He gazes down at me and his eyes are heated, lustful… hypnotic. "When you're in here, you are completely mine," he breathes, each word slow and

measured. "To do with as I see fit. Do you understand?"

His gaze is so intense. I nod, my mouth dry, my heart thumping for a way out of my chest.

"Take your shoes off," he orders softly.

I swallow, and rather clumsily, I take them off. He bends and picks them up and de- posits them beside the door.

"Good. Don't hesitate when I ask you to do something. Now I'm going to peel you out of this dress. Something I've wanted to do for a few days if I recall. I want you to be comfortable with your body, Anastasia. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it. It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He leans over me, glaring. "Yes, Sir."

"Do you mean that?" he snaps. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Lift your arms up over your head."

I do as instructed, and he reaches down and grabs the hem. Slowly, he pulls my dress up over my thighs, my hips, my belly, my breasts, my shoulders, and over my head. He stands back to examine me and absentmindedly folds my dress, not taking his eyes off me. He places it on the large chest beside the door. Reaching up, he pulls at my chin, his touch searing me.

"You're biting your lip," he breathes. "You know what that does to me," he adds darkly. "Turn around."

I turn immediately, no hesitation. He unclasps my bra and then taking both straps, he slowly pulls them down my arms, brushing my skin with his fingers and the tip of his thumbnails as he slides my bra off. His touch sends shivers down my spine, waking every nerve ending in my body. He's standing behind me, so close that I feel the heat radiating from him, warming me, warming me all over. He pulls my hair so it's all hanging down my back, grasps a handful at my nape, and angles my head to one side. He runs his nose down my exposed neck, inhaling all the way, then back up to my ear. The muscles in my belly clench, carnal and wanting. Jeez, he's hardly touched me, and I want him.

"You smell as divine as ever, Anastasia," he whispers as he places a soft kiss beneath my ear.

I moan.

"Quiet," he breathes. "Don't make a sound."

Pulling my hair behind me, to my surprise, he starts braiding it in one large braid, his fingers fast and deft. He ties it with an unseen hair tie when he's finished and gives it a quick tug so I'm forced back against him.

"I like your hair braided in here," he whispers.

_Hmm… why?_

He releases my hair. "Turn around," he orders.

I do as I'm bid, my breathing shallow, fear and longing mixed together. It's an intoxi- cating mix.

"When I tell you to come in here, this is how you will dress. Just in your panties. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He glowers at me. "Yes, Sir."

A trace of a smile lifts the corner of his mouth.

"Good girl." His eyes burn into mine. "When I tell you to come in here, I expect you to kneel over there." He points to a spot beside the door. "Do it now."

I blink processing his words, turn, and rather clumsily kneel as directed. "You can sit back on your heels."

I sit back.

"Place your hands and forearms flat on your thighs. Good. Now part your knees. Wider. Wider. Perfect. Look down at the floor."

He walks over to me, and I can see his feet and shins in my field of vision. Naked feet. I should be taking notes if he wants me to remember. He reaches down and grasps my braid again, then pulls my head back so I am looking up at him. It's only just not painful.

"Will you remember this position, Anastasia?" "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Stay here, don't move." He leaves the room.

I'm on my knees, waiting. Where's he gone? What is he going to do to me? Time shifts. I have no idea how long he leaves me like this… a few minutes, five, ten? My breathing becomes shallower, the anticipation is devouring me from the inside out.

And suddenly he's back – and all at once I'm calmer and more excited in the same breath. _Could I be more excited? _I can see his feet. He's changed his jeans. These are older, ripped, soft, and over-washed. Holy cow. These jeans are hot. He shuts the door and hangs something on the back.

"Good girl, Anastasia. You look lovely like that. Well done. Stand up." I stand, but I keep my face down.

"You may look at me."

I peek up at him, and he's staring at me intently, assessing, but his eyes soften. He's taken off his shirt. Oh my… I want to touch him. The top button of his jeans is undone.

"I'm going to chain you now, Anastasia. Give me your right hand."

I give him my hand. He turns it palm up, and before I know it, he swats the center with a riding crop I hadn't noticed is in his right hand. It happens so quickly that the surprise hardly registers. Even more astonishing – it doesn't hurt. Well, not much, just a slight ringing sting.

"How does that feel?" he asks. I blink at him, confused. "Answer me."

"Okay." I frown. "Don't frown."

I blink and try for impassive. I succeed. "Did that hurt?"

"No."

"This is not going to hurt. Do you understand?"

"Yes." My voice is uncertain. _Is it really not going to hurt?_

"I mean it," he says.

Jeez, my breathing is so shallow. Does he know what I'm thinking? He shows me the crop. It's brown plaited leather. My eyes jerk up to meet his, and they're alight with fire and a trace of amusement.

"We aim to please, Miss Steele," he murmurs. "Come." He takes my elbow and moves me to beneath the grid. He reaches up and takes down some shackles with black leather cuffs.

"This grid is designed so the shackles move across the grid." I glance up. _Holy shit _– it's like a subway map.

"We're going to start here, but I want to fuck you standing up. So we'll end up by the wall over there." He points with the riding crop to where the large wooden X is on the wall.

"Put your hands above your head."

I oblige immediately, feeling like I'm exiting my body – a casual observer of events as they unfold around me. This is beyond fascinating, beyond erotic. It's singularly the most exciting and scary thing I've ever done. I'm entrusting myself to a beautiful man who, by his own admission, is fifty shades of fucked-up. I suppress the brief thrill of fear. Kate and Elliot, they know I'm here.

He stands very close as he fastens the cuffs. I'm staring at his chest. His proximity is heavenly. He smells of body wash and Christian, an inebriating mix, and that drags me

back into the now. I want to run my nose and tongue through that smattering of chest hair. I could just lean forward…

He steps back and gazes at me, his expression hooded, salacious, carnal, and I am help- less, my hands tied, but just looking at his lovely face, reading his need and longing for me, I can feel the dampness between my legs. He walks slowly round me.

"You look mighty fine trussed up like this, Miss Steele. And your smart mouth, quiet for now. I like that."

Standing in front of me again, he hooks his fingers into my panties, and at a most un- hurried pace, peels them down my legs, stripping me agonizingly slowly, so that he ends up kneeling in front of me. Not taking his eyes off mine, he scrunches my panties in his hand, holds them up to his nose, and inhales deeply. _Holy fuck. Did he just do that? _He grins wickedly at me and tucks them into the pocket of his jeans.

Uncoiling from the floor, rising lazily, like a jungle cat, he points the end of the riding crop at my navel, leisurely circling it – tantalizing me. At the touch of the leather, I quiver and gasp. He walks round me again, trailing the crop around the middle of my body. On his second circuit, he suddenly flicks the crop, and it hits me underneath my behind… against my sex. I cry out in surprise as all my nerve endings stand to attention. I pull against the restraints. The shock runs through me, and it's the sweetest strangest, hedonistic feeling.

"Quiet," he whispers as he walks around me again, the crop slightly higher around the middle of my body. This time when he flicks it against me in the same place, I'm anticipat- ing it… _oh my. _My body convulses at the sweet, stinging bite.

As he makes his way around me, he flicks again, this time hitting my nipple, and I throw my head back as my nerve endings sing. He hits the other… a brief, swift, sweet chastisement. My nipples harden and elongate from the assault, and I moan loudly, pulling on my leather cuffs.

"Does that feel good?" he breathes. "Yes."

He hits me again across the buttocks. The crop stings this time. "Yes what?"

"Yes, Sir," I whimper.

He comes to a stop… but I can no longer see him. My eyes are closed as I try to absorb the myriad of sensations coursing through my body. Very slowly, he rains small, biting licks of the crop down my belly, heading south. I know where this is leading, and I try and psyche myself up for it – but when he hits my clitoris, I cry out loudly.

"Oh… please!" I groan.

"Quiet," he orders, and he hits me again on my behind.

I did not expect this to be like this… I am lost. Lost in a sea of sensation. And sud- denly, he's dragging the crop against my sex, through my pubic hair, down to the entrance of my vagina.

"See how wet you are for this, Anastasia. Open your eyes and your mouth."

I do as I'm told, completely seduced. He pushes the tip of the crop into my mouth, like my dream_. Holy shit._

"See how you taste. Suck. Suck hard, baby."

My mouth closes around the crop as my eyes lock on his. I can taste the rich leather and the saltiness of my arousal. His eyes are blazing. He's in his element.

He pulls the tip from my mouth, and he stands forward and grabs me and kisses me hard, his tongue invading my mouth. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me against him. His chest crushes mine, and I itch to touch, but I can't, my hands, useless above me.

"Oh, Anastasia, you taste mighty fine," he breathes. "Shall I make you come?" "Please," I beg.

The crop bites my buttock. _Ow!_

"Please, what?"

"Please, Sir," I whimper.

He smiles at me, triumphant.

"With this?" He holds the crop up so I can see it. "Yes, Sir."

"Are you sure?" He looks sternly at me. "Yes, please, Sir."

"Close your eyes."

I shut the room out, him out… the crop out. He starts small, biting licks of the crop against my belly once more. Moving down, soft small licks against my clitoris, once, twice, three times, again and again, until finally, that's it – I can take no more – and I come, gloriously, loudly, sagging weakly. His arms curl around me as my legs turn to jelly. I dis- solve in his embrace, my head against his chest, and I'm mewling and whimpering as the aftershocks of my orgasm consume me. He lifts me, and suddenly we're moving, my arms still tethered above my head, and I can feel the cool wood of the polished cross at my back, and he's popping the buttons on his jeans. He puts me down against the cross briefly while he slides on a condom, and then his hands wrap around my thighs as he lifts me again.

"Lift your legs, baby, wrap them round me."

I feel so weak, but I do as he asks as he wraps my legs around his hips and positions himself beneath me. With one thrust, he's inside me, and I cry out again, listening to his muffled moan at my ear. My arms are resting on his shoulders as he thrusts into me. Jeez, it's deep this way. He thrusts again and again, his face at my neck, his harsh breathing at my throat. I feel the build up again. Jeez no… not again… I don't think my body will with- stand another earth-shattering moment. But I have no choice… and with an inevitability that's becoming familiar, I let go and come again, and it's sweet and agonizing and intense. I lose all sense of self. Christian follows, shouting his release through clenched teeth and holding me hard and close as he does.

He pulls out of me swiftly and sets me down against the cross, his body supporting mine. Unbuckling the cuffs, he frees my hands, and we both sink to the floor. He pulls me into his lap, cradling me, and I lean my head against his chest. If I had the strength, I'd touch him, but I don't. Belatedly, I realize he's still wearing his jeans.

"Well done, baby," he murmurs. "Did that hurt?"

"No," I breathe. I can barely keep my eyes open. _Why am I so tired?_

"Did you expect it to?" he whispers as he holds me close, his fingers pushing some escaped tendrils of hair off my face.

"Yes."

"You see most of your fear is in your head, Anastasia," he pauses. "Would you do it again?"

I think for a moment as fatigue clouds my brain_… Again?_

"Yes." My voice is so soft. He hugs me tightly.

"Good. So would I," he murmurs, then leans down and softly kisses the top of my head.

"And I haven't finished with you yet."

_Not finished with me yet. Holy Moses. _There's no way I can do any more. I am ut- terly spent and fighting an overwhelming desire to sleep. I'm leaning against his chest, my eyes are closed, and he's wrapped around me – arms and legs – and I feel… safe, and oh so comfortable. Will he let me sleep, perchance to dream? My mouth quirks up at the silly thought, and turning my face into Christian's chest, I inhale his unique scent and nuzzle him, but immediately he tenses… oh crap. I open my eyes and glance up at him. He's staring down at me.

"Don't," he breathes in warning.

I flush and look back at his chest in longing. I want to run my tongue through the hair, kiss him, and for the first time, I notice he has a few random and faint small, round scars dotted around his chest. _Chicken pox? Measles? _I think absently.

"Kneel by the door," he orders as he sits back, putting his hands on his knees, effec- tively releasing me. No longer warm, the temperature of his voice has dropped several degrees.

I stumble clumsily up into a standing position and scoot over to the door and kneel as instructed. I'm shaky and very, very tired, monumentally confused. Who would have thought I could have found such gratification in this room. Who could have thought it would be so _exhausting? _My limbs are deliciously heavy, sated. My inner goddess has a

'do not disturb' sign on the outside of her room.

Christian is moving about in the periphery of my vision. My eyes start to droop. "Boring you, am I, Miss Steele?"

I jump awake, and Christian is standing in front of me, his arms crossed glaring down at me. Oh shit, caught napping – this is not going to be good. His eyes soften as I gaze up at him.

"Stand up," he orders.

I climb warily to my feet. He stares at me, and his mouths quirks up. "You're shattered, aren't you?"

I nod shyly, flushing.

"Stamina, Miss Steele." He narrows his eyes at me. "I haven't had my fill of you yet. Hold out your hands in front as if you're praying."

I blink at him. _Praying! Praying for you to go easy on me. _I do as I'm told. He takes a cable tie and fastens it around my wrists, tightening the plastic. Holy hell. My eyes fly to his.

"Look familiar," he asks, unable to conceal his smile.

Jeez… the plastic cable ties. _Restocking _at Clayton's! It all becomes clear. I gape up at him as adrenaline spikes though my body anew. Okay – that's got my attention – I'm awake now.

"I have scissors here." He holds them up for me to see. "I can cut you out of this in a moment."

I try to pull my wrists apart, testing my bonds, and as I do, the plastic bites into my flesh – it's sore, but if I relax my wrists they're fine – the tie is not cutting into my skin.

"Come." He takes my hands and leads me over to the four-poster bed. I notice now that it has dark red sheets on it and a shackle at each corner.

"I want more – much, much more," he leans down and whispers in my ear. And my heartbeat starts pounding again. _Oh boy._

"But I'll make this quick. You're tired. Hold on to the post," he says.

I frown. _Not on the bed then? _I find I can part my hands as I grasp the ornately carved wooden post.

"Lower," he orders. "Good. Don't let go. If you do, I'll spank you. Understand?" "Yes, Sir."

"Good."

He stands behind me and grasps my hips, and then quickly lifts me backward so I'm bending forward, holding the post.

"Don't let go, Anastasia," he warns. "I'm going to fuck you hard from behind. Hold the post to support your weight. Understand?"

"Yes."

He smacks me across my behind with his hand. _Ow… _It stings. "Yes, Sir," I mutter quickly.

"Part your legs." He puts his leg between mine, and holding my hips, he pushes my right leg to the side.

"That's better. After this, I'll let you sleep."

Sleep? I'm panting. I'm not thinking of sleep now. He reaches up and gently strokes my back.

"You have such beautiful skin, Anastasia," he breathes as he bends down and kisses me along my spine, gentle feather-light kisses. At the same time, his hands move round to my front palming my breasts, and as he does this, he traps my nipples between his fingers and tugs them gently.

I stifle my moan as I feel my whole body respond, coming alive once more for him. He gently bites and sucks me at my waist, tugging my nipples, and my hands tighten

on the exquisitely carved post. His hands drop away, and I hear the now familiar tear of foil, and he kicks off his jeans.

"You have such a captivating, sexy ass, Anastasia Steele. What I'd like to do to it." His hands smooth and shape each of my buttocks, then his fingers glide down, and he slips two fingers inside me.

"So wet. You never disappoint, Miss Steele," he whispers, and I hear the wonder in his voice. "Hold tight… this is going to be quick, baby."

He grabs my hips and positions himself, and I brace myself for his assault. But he reaches over me and grabs my braid near the end and winds it round his wrist to my nape

holding my head in place. Very slowly he eases into me, pulling my hair at the same time… _oh the fullness. _He eases out of me slowly, and his other hand grabs my hip, hold- ing tight, and then he slams into me, jolting me forward.

"Hold on, Anastasia!" he shouts through clenched teeth.

I grip harder round the post and push back against him as he continues his merciless onslaught, again and again, his fingers digging into my hip. My arms are aching, my legs feel uncertain, my scalp is getting sore from his tugging my hair… and I can feel a gathering deep inside me. Oh no… and for the first time, I fear my orgasm… if I come… I'll collapse. Christian continues to move roughly against me, in me, his breathing harsh, moaning, groaning. My body is responding_… how? _I feel a quickening. But suddenly, Christian stills, slamming really deep.

"Come on, Ana, give it to me," he groans, and my name on his lips sends me over the edge as I become all body and spiraling sensation and sweet, sweet release, and then com- pletely and utterly mindless.

When sense returns, I'm lying on him. He's on the floor, and I'm lying on top of him, my back to his front, and I'm staring at the ceiling, all post-coital, glowing, shattered. _Oh… the karabiners, _I think absently – I'd forgotten about those. Christian nuzzles my ear.

"Hold up your hands," he says softly.

My arms feel like they're made of lead, but I hold them up. He wields the scissors and passes one blade under the plastic.

"I declare this Ana open," he breathes, and cuts the plastic. I giggle and rub my wrists as they're freed. I feel his grin.

"That is such a lovely sound," he says wistfully. He sits suddenly, taking me with him so that I'm once more sitting in his lap.

"That's my fault," he says and shifts me so that he can rub my shoulders and arms. Gently he massages some life back into my limbs

_What?_

I glance up at him behind me, trying to understand what he means. "That you don't giggle more often."

"I'm not a great giggler," I mumble sleepily.

"Oh, but when it happens, Miss Steele, 'tis a wonder and joy to behold." "Very flowery, Mr. Grey," I mutter, trying to keep my eyes open.

His eyes soften, and he smiles.

"I'd say you're thoroughly fucked and in need of sleep." "That wasn't flowery at all," I grumble playfully.

He grins and gently lifts me off him and stands, gloriously naked. I wish momentarily that I were more awake to really appreciate him. Picking up his jeans, he slides them back on, commando.

"Don't want to frighten Taylor, or Mrs. Jones for that matter," he mutters.

_Hmm… they must know what a kinky bastard he is. The thought preoccupies me._

He stoops to help me to my feet and leads me to the door, on the back of which hangs a grey waffle robe. He patiently dresses me as if I'm a small child. I don't have the strength to lift my arms. When I'm covered and respectable, he leans down and kisses me gently, his mouth quirks up in a smile.

"Bed," he says.

_Oh… no…_

"For sleep," he adds reassuringly when he sees my expression.

Suddenly, he scoops me up and carries me curled against his chest to the room along the corridor where earlier today Dr. Greene examined me. My head drops against his chest. I am exhausted. I don't remember ever being this tired. Pulling back the duvet, he lays me down, and even more surprisingly, climbs in beside me and holds me close.

"Sleep now, gorgeous girl," he whispers, and he kisses my hair. And before I can make a facetious comment, I'm asleep.


End file.
